Cabin Fever
by Ima Target
Summary: Benny and Ray travel north with the intention of rebuilding Bob Fraser's cabin.  But can they resist getting involved in an old friend's murder investigation?


**Authors Note & Disclaimer:** This story is being reposted under a new pen-name (formerly icklehamster) and in its complete form – mostly because I never remember to put new chapters up! It was written between ten and fifteen years ago – when Due South was originally on TV in the UK – and has been lingering on various hard disks ever since. Thanks mostly to the wonderful BBC channel that is BBC2 which is currently repeating the show, I've had my interest rekindled and these fics are once more seeing the light of day….I really hope that you enjoy them.

I don't own Due South….well, I tell a lie. I have Series 1 recorded now and hopefully I'll be able to carry on through the remaining episodes. Failing that, they're a lot cheaper on Amazon these days….

**OoooO**

**Due South – Cabin Fever**

Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago PD hoisted his rucksack further up onto his shoulder. He rubbed the sore patch that the strap had left behind, then, sighing harshly, upped his pace to catch up with Fraser who was striding ahead, equipped only with a small brown bag containing a few meagre belongings - although enough, he claimed, to see them through any foreseeable situation that may deign to occur during the next two weeks.

Ray didn't believe him. But then, Ray didn't believe him very often. In fact, he had long since stopped taking _anything_ Fraser said seriously. It just made life easier. And since life with Fraser was never easy - or uncomplicated - then he'd take anything that he could get.

Take now. If he stood still (which he couldn't, as Fraser probably wouldn't notice and would be at least two miles ahead, the rate he was walking - or was it marching?) and thought about it, he had absolutely no idea what he was actually doing here. The last place he ever expected to find himself was in the wilds of the North West Territories, in the company a Mountie, with the intent of rebuilding a log cabin that the Mountie's bank robber girlfriend had burned down after retrieving a stash of money she had hidden there...it was really too much to take in.

It was spring in Chicago now, Ray's favourite season. The weather was cool, but crisp, the smell of flowers and cut grass was in the air (when you could smell them through the pollution from the cars, vans, etc...) and there was always the possibility of a balmy heat wave to surprise you and lift your spirits.

And that wasn't the only thing that he had left behind. He'd left behind his family, his job, his friends, and his car - his pride and joy in gleaming green, his Buick Riviera, which he valued almost more than life itself.

Almost.

So what _was_ he doing here? As he watched Fraser's retreating back heading towards what was laughingly called an airport terminal, he reluctantly knew the answer. He'd promised Fraser this trip. They had attempted it once before, but hadn't actually made it, due to an unfortunate hijacking/crashing/blindness/paralysis related incident, so that didn't really didn't count.

But Ray, still, after all this time, felt he had to live up to that promise. After everything, he still owed Fraser for putting that bullet in his back.

Even though it _had_ been an accident.

No, thought Ray, finally deciding to shift his troublesome rucksack to his other shoulder, life with Fraser was never easy, straightforward, uncomplicated...

But in a weird way - it _was_ kind of fun.

OoooO

When he was back within earshot of Fraser, he called out to him to attract his attention, employing one of his legendary laconic quips.

"It's waking up, y'know, Benny."

Fraser spared him the merest of glances. "What's that, Ray?"

"My butt. It's waking up."

"That's very encouraging to know."

"Sure is. Geez. I've got pins and needles in places you sure don't want pins and needles. Real pins and needles I mean." Once again shifting his bag, and cursing the manufacturers for furnishing the bags with straps that cut into your skin and leave a disturbing rash of little red spots, he looked at Fraser questioningly. "Tell me again why we weren't allowed to stand up on the flight?"

"It was a light aircraft, Ray. There was barely room _to_ stand up. Any unnecessary movement could cause the plane to list, which in turn would cause unnecessary distress to the people aboard."

"You mean, you, me and Dief."

"Well, yes." Fraser finally turned his head to look at his partner. "You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Not since he bounded off the plane, no." Then, reverting to his original subject, he continued. "I guess there was really little point anyway. I mean, since there wasn't a toilet aboard. On a four and a half hour flight."

"I warned you not to drink so much coffee, Ray."

"Coffee is dehydrating, Benny. Finally, something you _don't_ know."

"I think you'll find that it's soft drinks based on cocoa such as cola, which are in fact dehydrating. It was a marketing ploy used to..."

"Benny - I do not want to know. Alright? I do _not_ want to know."

Fraser raised a gloved hand in a gesture which Ray had come to find strangely calming. Probably because it usually meant that Fraser had got his point and was now about to either a) shut up or b) change the subject. Ray, however, didn't want to change the subject. He couldn't. His bladder kept sending him little reminders. "I guess there'll be a toilet at the terminal, huh?"

"I believe there is, Ray, yes." Fraser suddenly stopped in his tracks, with Ray walking on a few metres before he realised he was now alone. He turned, and watched as Fraser raised cupped hand to his mouth and shouted. "DIEF!"

Nothing - no sign. Ray fought to reassure him. "He'll show."

"I'm sure he will." Fraser turned and carried on walking. "Come on Ray, we haven't the time to lose."

"It was you that stopped!" Ray shook his head in resignation. "Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser replied, over his shoulder.

"Tell me something, will you?"

"What, Ray?"

"Exactly how long is this runway and why did the plane have to land right at the end of it?"

Fraser found himself lost for an answer for a moment, then shrugged, coming up with an answer which he hoped would satisfy Ray. "This is Canada, Ray."

"Oh yeah. Should have known. Guess I should be grateful that there's no sign of parachuting mousses. Mousses..." Ray rolled the world around on his tongue. "Shouldn't that be mice?"

"No, Ray."

"Oh. Why not?"

"I don't have the time to go into it right now, Ray. Ask me again later."

"I'll do that." Ray lapsed into silence, mulling his quandary in his head. Fraser strode on, breathing in the clean, crisp Canadian air. Even though he'd lived nearly three years in Chicago, this was, and always would be, his home. And one day he'd come back here for good.

He didn't know when, but, glancing back at Ray and fighting back a smile, he realised that he didn't want it to be for a few more years yet.

OoooO

A search of the terminal failed to reveal the whereabouts of the errant wolf. It was almost as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. Three years ago, Fraser would probably not have been so concerned, but Diefenbaker had been so altered by life in Chicago that, unless his natural instincts kicked in, he might find it hard to adjust back into the wilderness lifestyle. Fraser could only hope that Dief would either turn up soon, or those instincts would come to the fore when needed, and bring his loyal friend back to him, safe, when his adventure was over.

Ray, at least outwardly, was unconcerned by the missing wolf. He was far more concerned in locating a bus schedule. He'd been informed that yes, there was indeed a bus that would take them to (quote) the "vicinity" of Fraser's father's cabin, but actually locating the schedule was proving more than difficult due to a filing system which consisted of two shoe boxes and a circular file - which looked uncannily to Ray like a garbage pail. One of the shoeboxes had been turned upside down and emptied of it's contents, with the assistant muttering assurances that she was "definite it was in this one."

Ray sighed, gave up and wandered over to Fraser, who was staring out of the window. Reiterating his earlier assurance, he said. "He'll show up, you know."

Fraser simply nodded. Ray sensed that his friend was in one of his almost impenetrable contemplative moods, and turned back to the desk just as the flushed assistant waved a shabby looking piece of paper in the air triumphantly. Ray grinned.

"So it _was_ in there?"

The assistant looked sheepish. "No. It was in the other one." She laid the schedule down on the desk and smoothed it out with her hand. Ray noticed an old coffee ring stain near the centre of the paper, and prayed that their bus wasn't one of those that had had it's schedule smudged by the liquid. "I'll just see if I can find it for you."

As she pored over the list, Ray muttered almost to himself "With a bit of luck it'll be sometime this week..."

"It's not that irregular, Ray." Fraser's voice at his shoulder made him jump.

"And it _is_ a bus? With an engine?"

"What else would it be, Ray?"

"I dunno. A dog sled, maybe?" Ray turned back to just as the assistant looked up.

"Yes. There is a bus." She swivelled the paper round and pointed out the appropriate route. Fraser examined it, smiled and thanked her. Ray looked on as the assistant folded up the schedule and replaced it in the box - the first box. She then piled some of the contents of the second box on top. She'd never find it again.

"It would appear..." said Fraser, removing his bag from his shoulder and seating himself on an orange plastic chair. "...that we have some time to wait. And it would also appear..." He continued, before Ray had a chance to interrupt. "...that we will also have to complete the last ten kilometres of the journey under our own steam, as it were. As you recall, my father's cabin is very isolated."

"You can say that again. We'll be able to bum a lift, though, right?"

"With luck."

Ray rolled his eyes. "What if we don't?"

"I would think that would be obvious, Ray."

"We walk. Ten kilometres. In the snow." Ray nodded. He felt the panic begin to set in. "Benny...I've got to tell you something."

Fraser looked up, concern crossing his features. "What's that, Ray?"

He hoisted his bag back up onto his back. "I'm going home. I said I'd come here with you, and I have. I don't recall saying anything about staying."

With that, he stormed back out through the terminal door through which they had recently entered.

Fraser didn't respond. He simply sat, and waited. And, sure enough, Ray returned ten minutes later. Fraser knew that once he had had time to calm down, he would see sense. "So...when's this bus?"

"Two pm, Ray."

"Great."

Once again, Fraser waited. He knew it wouldn't be long and he mentally braced himself for the impact. When it came, it was delivered in a deceptively calm tone of voice.

"And I guess now you're going to explain to me just what we're supposed to do here for the next two and a half hours."

OoooO

"I'm sure we've passed that pine tree before."

"I do know where I'm going, Ray."

Ray supposed he did. This _was_ the cabin where Fraser had spent a large part of his childhood. But he was feeling cold, tired, moody and petulant, and he wasn't going to let it lie. Especially as he now had something to hold against Fraser - a rather unpleasant surprise that had revealed itself as they had alighted from the bus.

"It's just, you know, I seem to recall that you've said that before, Benny. Just before you came to the crushing realisation that we had in fact gone in a huge circle and ended up back at the plane crash from whence we came."

"I seem to recall that was I was suffering from concussion at the time. Coupled with the fact that I had lost the ability to see..."

"Coupled with the fact that you'd lost your compass then as well."

"I have not _lost_ my compass."

"So that frantic search you conducted was just a way of amusing yourself for a few moments?"

Fraser stopped, sighed, and looked at Ray in defeat. "I must have forgotten to pack it."

"Not you, Fraser." Ray looked on in mock horror. Then he grinned, deciding to drop the subject. "So how much further is it anyway? I can't tell how far we've walked. It never looks any different. It's all white. I look up, snow. Down, more snow. Sideways - hey, Benny - guess what?"

"It's not much further, Ray, honestly." Fraser glanced at his watch. "We really must push on if we're to get there by nightfall."

"How bad is the cabin anyway? Y'know, I figured on not chopping down more than a couple trees or banging in a couple hundred nails."

"I have no idea."

Ray decided that in order to try to confirm what Fraser had just said, he'd repeat it. Slowly. "You. Have. No. Idea. Didn't you...I don't know..._ask_?"

"It really never crossed my mind." Fraser paused, looked around himself and smiled as he saw familiar landmarks. "Yes, this is it. It's just over the brow of the next hill."

Ray sagged with relief. Fraser strode on ahead, while Ray lagged behind, winding his aching muscles down. He caught up with Fraser on the hill, and the first thing he saw was the expression on Fraser's face. He thought it might have been happiness, relief, nostalgia...

But it was none of those.

In fact it was an expression that had no name that came immediately to mind. But what Fraser said next fitted the bill perfectly.

"Oh dear."

OoooO

"I really had no idea it was this bad, Ray. Honestly."

Ray, who had just beaten his personal best time for remaining silent, laughed derisively. Bad wasn't the word. The cabin was almost completely gutted. Being made almost exclusively of wood, he guessed, couldn't have helped. Blackened timbers lay on the white snow, like an artists charcoal stick left lying on a fresh piece of paper. The main structure was surprisingly still sound, but all the windows had been shattered by the heat, the frames scorched.

The door, although away from the seat of the fire, had been kicked open by the team of Mounties who had fought to put the fire out. A large hole in the centre attested to that fact. The roof, well...what roof? Fraser counted as one blessing the fact that they had come while the thaw was beginning, else the cabin would have been literally filled with snow - and they may as well have turned straight around and gone back to Chicago.

Which, he guessed rightly, was exactly what Ray was thinking.

"I won't hold you to this, Ray." They hadn't moved from the brow of the hill. Ray tried to read the expression on his friends face, but as usual, found it near impossible. True, sometimes their friendship was so strong that he could tell what Fraser was thinking - even finish sentences for him - but occasionally Fraser constructed a wall that no-one could get through. Especially where memories of Victoria Metcalf were concerned. As far as Ray knew, somewhere deep down Fraser still didn't believe that she had been capable of all of this. Destroying his father's cabin. Stashing the proceeds of the robbery there. And the emotional and physical nightmares that she had put both of them through.

Maybe, just maybe, repairing the cabin as best they could in the next two weeks may have some kind of a subconscious effect. Because, Ray knew, despite Fraser's assertions, he still wasn't really over her.

So, against his better instincts, he found himself shaking his head. "Nah. We're here now. And..." he said as he started backing down the other side of the hill. "I've always wanted to rebuild a log cabin from scratch."

Fraser finally broke into a smile and followed him. "Really?"

"No, Fraser. It's that sarcasm thing again, remember?"

"Oh, yes. I still don't really have a handle on that, do I?"

"You sure don't."

"You'll have to explain it to me again."

"Sure. Right after you explain to me about the mousses/mouses/mice thing."

"It's a promise."

OoooO

It was too late to start any work that day, so Fraser set to building a fire in the old stove, which was one of the few things that had escaped the ravages of the flames. Ray had been dispatched to collect wood, and he reappeared every few moments, with an armful of logs, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, then glaring at Fraser and wandering off again, pulling the zip of his ski suit even higher in a none to subtle gesture to tell Fraser that he was cold, and could he please get that fire started?

The sun was beginning to set over the hill, and they had no source of light apart from two kerosene lamps that they had brought with them from Chicago. Unless you counted the moon and the stars, that was.

Fraser did. Ray didn't. Having hardly been out of Chicago his entire life he probably had never really seen enough stars to truly appreciate them. Fraser knew that if someone could magically transport him to this cabin, at any chosen time of year, he could guess the correct date, with nearly 100% accuracy. The stars were unchanging, and as old as time itself. Some of them were so many thousands of light years away, they could have died and disappeared a million years ago, yet the human race would never know.

And like the stars, this place, this landscape, this cabin, was timeless.

The fire now blazing, he warmed his hands, and breathed in the smoke. If he closed his eyes, he could picture himself, on his fathers lap, listening enraptured as he told him another tale of his adventures. He'd known he was going to be a Mountie for as long as he could remember - it just seemed so natural. And he'd made it, and made his father proud. They hadn't seen, or spoken to each other much since his graduation, but he had been there, and the expression on his face had told him everything.

And likewise, Fraser was proud of him. Robert Fraser, now three years after his death, was still marked down in the annals as a hero, a legend. A man who'd put all before his own life.

And he'd passed that down to his son. Along with - Fraser glanced to his bag - the journals which he had kept for many, many years. Along with the tales that he had heard as a boy, he could read his father's innermost thoughts. About his work, about his marriage. And as the years went on, how he felt he had failed as a father.

As a father - maybe. As a man? No.

Fraser could almost feel him here. But then - that wouldn't really be a huge surprise. Fraser had had - he struggled for the phrase - 'visits' from his father. He didn't know if it was his imagination, or whether it was real...most of the time he put it down to the former. Even now, after three years in the big city, he still felt himself to be a loner. Yes - Ray was his best friend - the best he'd ever had. He'd confided things to him that he'd never dared reveal to anyone else.

But there were still some things he'd never tell.

And, there were also some times when Ray's presence began to grate. But he'd never tell him that, either. Despite Ray's macho attitude, it was all too easy to hurt his feelings.

So he smiled as Ray returned, dumped the pile of logs in an untidy heap, and growled "That's the last lot. I can barely see out there. And..." he looked around himself as if he thought something was going to jump out of the night at him. "...there's noises."

"Well, there would be, Ray." Fraser closed the stove door, brushed the soot from his hands, and turned to his friend. "There's wildlife out there. Roaming. And - it's not exactly quiet in Chicago, is it?"

"No, but this is a different type of noisy, Frase. There's things out there that can eat me. Things with fangs and red eyes that only see you as a piece of meat."

Fraser only shook his head. "Still no sign of Dief."

"No." Now Ray was beginning to look concerned himself. "But you know Dief, he always has a reason for his little excursions."

"Mmm."

Ray exhaled loudly, then gestured to the cloud of vapour that emerged from his mouth. "Look at that! If it gets any colder, Benny, that'll freeze up. I'll need a blowtorch to get past my own breath."

"Yes. We really should be setting down for the night."

"Well..." Ray swivelled around. "I hope you've got a few better ideas than I have. The bed is a pile of melted springs and scorched feathers. We have no roof...maybe we could use one of the outhouses but the stove is in here, and if we don't have the stove, we'll probably freeze to death."

"We could...no." Fraser dismissed the possibility which had crossed his mind.

"We could what?"

"Well, in times past, the Inuit..."

"We are _not_ sleeping in an igloo, Benny." Ray's tone sounded lethal, and Fraser decided to quench the approaching fire.

"It's too late to do that now, Ray. It takes a good day to build an igloo large enough to house two adult males."

Ray sighed. "Well, good. So what else is there? A snow hole?"

"There really is no need for such extreme measures."

"So..." Ray was getting annoyed. "What do you suggest?"

"Have you ever built a den, Ray?"

"As in a TV room?"

"No...a den. When you were small. With discarded pieces of wood, doors...a bolt hole. A fort..."

Before Fraser could continue with his list, Ray cut in, with a brief, concise answer. "No, Benny. Unlike you I was never a boy scout. Officially or unofficially." Doubt crossed his face. "You think we could do that?"

"I don't see why not. All we need is cover. We have blankets, we can boil tea on the stove..."

Ray snorted. "You're really getting into this, aren't you?" He waited, but Fraser deigned not to reply. "OK. Alright. Just tell me what I need to do."

OoooO

About an hour later, with the night having closed in around them, Fraser and Ray found themselves underneath the relatively unsinged kitchen table. A couple of spare blankets had been draped to create a surreal kind of four poster effect. They were lying in opposite directions, Fraser flat out on the ground and Ray with his head on Fraser's bed roll, next to Fraser's feet. Although tucked inside his sleeping bag, Ray still wasn't happy. The noises, he was sure, were getting louder and he was sure that a draught was somehow getting into his sleeping bag, despite being zipped firmly up to the top.

"I'm not going to survive the night, Benny. It's too cold. I need central heating. Radiators. I'm an urban animal."

"You'll adapt, Ray." Fraser sounded slightly groggy, and Ray realised he must have been asleep already. How he could, lying on the bare floor...here...? Then Fraser moved his head up a little at regarded Ray by the dim light of the lamp. "You're more likely to throttle yourself with the toggle on your sleeping bag than die of cold." With that he lay back again. "Goodnight, Ray."

There was a moments silence. Then.

"Benny?"

"Yes, Ray."

Ray paused for a moment. Every sarcastic remark he had had planned suddenly disappeared in a wave of tiredness. So, instead, he simply said. "Goodnight."

The two friends closed their eyes and both were asleep within moments. Ray's dreams were filled with beaches, cocktails, bikini clad waitresses, and aloha shirts.

Fraser's dreams however were the exact opposite. He dreamt of wide open snowy landscapes. Mountains.

Scenery that went on for ever. Then he saw himself. Calling out a name.

He was calling for Dief.

And as long as he waited, his friend did not return.

OoooO

The only light in the room came from a solitary desk lamp, which was directing most it's beam onto a pile of files, stacked precariously one on top of the other to form a tower almost a foot tall. The desks occupant, was, for the moment, concentrating on another important task, making herself a cup of coffee. Although the weather was warming as spring approached, the station house was still deathly cold. Especially at night, alone. Apart from the watchman outside, that was. Her colleagues, well, they were either out on patrol, or at home, with their families, wives, husbands, kids.

The only thing occupying her mind right now was the case she'd been working on for almost a month. She still hadn't cracked it. This guy was so elusive and so good at covering his tracks - he knew every trick in the book. It was almost as if he knew every technique that they would employ in his pursuit.

It was only now that they had begun to explore the possibility that this man, the man who had killed a woman and left her nine year old daughter for dead - and now with no memory of the attack, could actually be one of their own. Or, to be more precise, one of their own who had left the force, possibly under a cloud.

And that was what the files were for. Every Mountie that had been reprimanded. Discharged. 'Transferred' under circumstances that were none to clear.

She placed the coffee gently down, knowing that any rushed movement may well send the pile of files teetering off the side of the desk. For a profession that had such a world-wide reputation, it was surprising - and very sad - to discover how many Mounties didn't live up to the motto.

Maintain the Right.

Maintain the Right of the ordinary Canadian citizen to live in peace, without fear of crime.

She lived by that motto. She had it engraved on a bracelet that was - almost - always on her wrist.

It had been a gift, from a man she knew during basic training all of those years ago. Nearly twenty years ago, in fact. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of how quickly those years had passed. They'd been friends - close friends. They'd both held the same ambitions, the same beliefs. Being a Mountie hadn't been just a career option for them, it had been a calling. A need. Just as her father had been in the force, so had his. They had both grown up with it, known nothing else. Wanted nothing else.

Their shared feelings had led them - almost - to being something more than friends. He had - hesitantly asked her out for a date. She could remember his cheeks glowing red as he spoke. A good looking man - no, make that a great looking man, with a talent for his work that matched only his father's - a legend - when it came to matters of the heart he had a surprising lack of confidence. And it had endeared him to her.

The relationship, such as it was, had lasted a little over a month.

Though it had been a very sweet month. He was a hopeless romantic. A gentleman.

But the fact that he seemed so much to her like a brother had made the whole thing feel almost incestuous, and they had, after much discussion, decided to remain friends.

That had been on the day they had graduated. The day he had given her the bracelet, knowing that his posting would mean that he was leaving her.

Of course, they'd promised to write, to call. And they had. But like a lot of separated friends, the letters and calls had dwindled to the odd Christmas card. The last time she had seen him had been around six years ago, at the Musical Ride.

But she still wore the bracelet. As a link to that wonderful month.

She shook her head to bring herself back to her senses and returned her attention to the pile. She grabbed the next file, and checked the name.

She almost laughed at the coincidence.

It was him.

Of course he would be here. He had been transferred to Chicago about three years ago - she had heard that much. The constable that had retrieved the files must have been a little overzealous. Though it had been somewhat under a cloud - he had turned in one of his own.

But that man had been one of those Mounties who only maintained his own right - his own right to money. Power. While disregarding the rights of the local community. And he had put him away. It had been the right thing to do.

Because this particular bent Mountie had killed his father.

There was really no point to checking his file. It wouldn't be him. There was no way it would be him. He wouldn't harm so much as a hair on a woman's head. And certainly not a child's.

But still, she opened the file. A glossy eight by six photograph looked up at her. She'd been there, next in line when this picture had been taken, and despite his stoic expression, she could still see the laughter in his eyes, where she had been standing behind the oblivious cameraman, pulling faces.

The casual observer may not have noticed it.

But she had been one of the few people who had really, really known him. Known the man underneath the uniform. Figuratively at least. She smiled, and closed the file. She didn't know where he was now. Or if she'd ever see him again.

Placing the file in her OUT tray, she uttered five words, quietly, to herself.

"I miss you, Benton Fraser."

OoooO

An hour later, she glanced up as the door creaked open. It was Myers, the watchman, who was shucking his luminous coat. He must be going off shift.

So, it must be six am.

Refusing to believe it, she glanced at her watch, blinked, then glanced at it again. Yes, there it was. 6 am. And her next patrol started at 12 noon. During the last hour the OUT files had slipped and fallen to the ground, and she had just left them, concentrating on the rest of the files to try to get through them before daybreak. She wouldn't make it. There were at least twenty more files waiting for her attention, and at an average of five to ten minutes a file...she glanced at her watch again, and then, almost unwillingly, her hand snaked out and took the next file.

She was stopped before she could open it by Myers.

"You still here?"

She shrugged. "I lost track of the time." She waited as he approached, and looked over her shoulder. "Did you find anything?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But I'm so tired that - I don't know." She sagged visibly.

"C'mon, Jill. It's about time you went home. You have to get some sleep."

She knew that he was right, but there was still a reluctance holding her back. "But there's only..."

"Jilly - please. I'll give you a lift. Come on. You'll be back here in six hours..." He bent down suddenly and started picking up the files from the floor. Peeking up over the edge of the desk, he noticed she still hadn't moved. "Jill - if you don't move from that chair I will lift you -chair and all - out to my pick up and strap you in the back." It was no empty threat. At well over 6 feet tall, and a broad muscular frame, he could well have carried it out.

Finally acquiescing, she put the last file back up onto the "IN" pile, and pushed her chair back. "I think I'd rather ride in the cab. Let me get my coat."

"Sure. I'll wait by the door."

"Thanks." She removed her thick fleece coat from the coat stand, and slipped it on. She passed by her desk on the way to the door, and for a second her eyes flicked back to the files. But Myers noticed it.

"Jill - I have a gun."

She snorted. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" She followed Myers out into the darkness. It would be a good couple of hours yet before dawn, but there was a warm breeze and she could tell that they would be in for a pleasant day. The spring thaw couldn't be far away.

When they got to the red pick up, Myers patted his pockets to try to locate his keys. Shirt pockets, nothing. Trouser pockets, coat pockets - no reassuring jingle of keys. "Shoot, shoot, shoot. I must have left them in my other coat." He began heading back towards the building. "I'll be two seconds."

She simply nodded in response. The night was almost completely silent. It was hard to believe sometimes that there were billions of people out there, many asleep, others at work, at play...

And then the silence was cut through. By a wolf's howl.

She had no fear of wolves, but it was rare to hear one this close to the station house. Usually they roamed in packs out on the large ice floes. And it was rare to hear one alone. She knew she was in no immediate danger. Wolves very rarely attacked humans unless provoked. Still, she looked back to the door. Myers had been gone longer than his promised two seconds.

Then, a bark. Loud. The wolf was close. No more than a few hundred metres. For some reason, it had sensed her and was closing in. Her eyes darted once again back to the door. Myers was now in sight, closing the door behind him. He caught her eye and waved the keys in the air. He returned to the pick up and unlocked the door, then leant over and unlocked the passenger side.

What happened seem to happen in slow motion, but strangely also happened in a blur. As she made to get into the pick up, Myers eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of something behind her. He grabbed his gun and got out of the truck.

She swivelled around.

"JILL!" Myers yelled. "Look out!"

It was the wolf. It was now within sight and headed straight towards her. Myers raised his gun, although he wouldn't shoot unless he was sure the wolf was about to attack.

As the wolf approached, lit by the security light outside of the station house, Jill actually thought that she recognised it. Though from where...her mind was too full of panic to think. One hundred metres now. It was not slowing.

Jill heard Myers crack back the safety on his pistol.

Fifty metres.

Twenty five.

Ten.

And then the wolf leapt in the air, right at her. It pushed her back so she fell against the ground. Myers dashed around to her side of the pick-up, gun aimed and ready to fire.

And then...

The wolf's tongue lolled out and licked her across the face.

In the darkness, Myers didn't see it, and Jill caught a glimpse of the gun barrel levelled at the wolf's head.

"Myers - NO!"

"What?"

The panic gone, her mind was free to realise where it was she had seen this particular dog.

"It's Diefenbaker." She started to laugh, then struggled to extricate herself from the dog's ecstatic greeting. "Get off me, Dief." She stood. "I know him. He's completely harmless."

Myers pointed his gun back down at the ground but still looked wary. "Where from?"

"He's Benton Fraser's wolf. He had him the last time we met - about six years ago." She hunkered down to the wolf. "And I never forget a face - do I, Dief?" A slobbery dog kiss in return. Seeing that Myers still had the gun in his hand, she sought to reassure him. "Honestly, it's fine."

Myers finally reholstered his gun. "OK. But what is he doing here?"

"I'm guessing his master must be somewhere around. And - I think I can guess where. I'll take him home with me. I can return him to Fraser tomorrow."

"What about the case?"

"I'll mention to Ben. If I know him, he won't be able to resist helping out. And we could do with someone like him on our team. He's brilliant."

"OK." Myers moved back round to the drivers side of the pick up. Jill got back in, and Dief tried to leap in on top of her. Myers shook his head. "But the wolf goes in the back."

OoooO

Ray Vecchio was perched on the top rung of the ladder, nailing in a plank. Never a DIY freak - in fact the most he had ever really done was hammer in the occasional nail, he had just had an overlong lesson in the correct way to go about it. After finally reassuring Fraser that he had actually got it, and proving it to him by hammering in ten nails perfectly without hitting anything other than the nail, Fraser let him start nailing up the planks that he was sawing from the trees that he had chopped down at dawn - two hours before Ray had woken up. In fact, Ray had been so tired and had slept so soundly that first night, Fraser could have rebuilt the entire cabin around him and he doubted that he would have noticed.

They worked in silence, with only the bang of the hammer and the rhythmic sawing noise penetrating the atmosphere. They were almost industrious. They were certainly beginning to shape up as a team.

Yes, thought Ray, letting go of the latest plank and grinning as it held firmly in place, they might even get the best part of this done before the fortnight was through. And he might even learn to enjoy it.

He backed down the ladder, and walked over to where Fraser was still sawing. The backlog of planks had disappeared. Fraser had slowed down considerably. Every now and again, he would stop, the saw still embedded in the wood, and glance around. He was still looking out for Diefenbaker, who had failed to show up during the night. As Fraser had told him, the longer that Dief stayed out in the wild, the greater the chance that he wasn't coming back. And now, at nearly noon - it had been a good twenty four hours since they had last seen him at the airport. With nothing at present to do, and his stomach grumbling, Ray interrupted Fraser's current reverie.

"Hey - Benny? Mind if I get something to eat?"

"No - go ahead." Their rations were meagre but filling. Bread, biscuits, chocolate - and they had the promise of fish to come. It was a vast improvement on their last excursion - where all they had had to live on was three bottles of water and a breath mint. And the grubs, of course. But, thankfully, due to the cover of snow, there would be no chance of finding any even if they did need them. Ray was - needless to say - relieved.

He had begun to head inside the cabin when there was a loud clatter. He looked back. Fraser looked up. One of the planks - in fact the second one that Ray had nailed to the outside of the building - had slipped off, and hit the ground. The nails Ray had beaten in must have failed to connect properly with the inner support beams. It was on the side of the cabin, near the roof. Fraser gestured to it. "Can you...?"

"Sure." Ray retrieved the ladder from the front of the cabin, and placed it up at the side. Unfortunately, where it was needed the ground sloped a little and the ladder sloped at an angle Ray found unacceptable. "Benny - hang on to this for me will you?"

Fraser dropped the saw and supported the ladder as Ray, burdened with the plank, ascended it. He placed it in position, and began hammering in the first nail.

Things happened very quickly after that. There was a sound - one which Ray had never heard before, sudden, and explosive from below him. He felt Fraser loosen his grip on the ladder, and in the ensuing panic, he lost his grip on the hammer. The hammer fell, and he just manage to cry out in time for Fraser to move out of the way to avoid suffering a nasty blow on the noggin. In doing this, Fraser let go completely of the ladder, and the ladder slipped. Ray had no other choice but to hang on as the ladder fell, and he found himself a few seconds later, sitting in the snow, the ladder half on top of him. He was unharmed, but unhappy.

Fraser dashed to his rescue. "Ray - are you alright?"

"Yes, Benny." Ray pulled himself out under from the ladder. "What about you?"

"I'm fine, Ray. Why wouldn't I be?" Fraser looked genuinely confused.

"Well..."

"What, Ray?"

"You _sneezed_." Ray shook his head in disbelief. "I've never heard you do that before."

"You must have. Granted, I don't sneeze very often..."

"You never sneeze. You must have cast iron sinuses. God, I hope you're not coming down with something."

Fraser shook his head. "It must be the sawdust." That seemed like a logical explanation, and one which hadn't until then crossed Ray's mind.

"Yeah, of course." Ray looked from Fraser to the ladder. "Look - can we just get something to eat. We've got all day..."

Fraser gave in and nodded. Ray grinned and headed back to the door. And then from behind him, the noise again. He turned around. Fraser followed him, wiping at his nose with his till then immaculate handkerchief. "It's just the sawdust, Ray."

"Yeah. Just the sawdust. Sure, Benny."

OoooO

Sawdust or not, something had definitely gotten up Fraser's nose. The sneezes continued, and by the end of their lunch break, his eyes were streaming, and his nose was red. Fraser was beginning to believe that there was some truth in Ray's assertions that he was in fact, for the first time in almost as many years as he could remember, actually getting a cold. Ray busied himself preparing some tea, and he passed a mugful to Fraser. He was just raising his own to his lips when the latest in a succession of surprising noises occurred.

A bark.

A recognisable bark.

Fraser's flushed face broke into a grin and he leapt to his feet, running outside. And true enough, there was Dief, running to meet him. He scooched down and Dief leapt into his arms, greeting him ecstatically. After having his face licked almost clean of the remnants of his lunch, he regarded Dief. "Where have you been?"

"Scaring the wits out of me."

It was only then that Fraser noticed the other presence in his immediate vicinity. A woman, in the distinctive workaday browns of the RCMP. He looked up, and met a smiling, familiar face.

"My god - Jill!"

"Ben. It's great to see you." She gestured around. "I'd ask what you're doing back here but it's self evident. This guy..." she said, pointing towards Dief, "accosted me at the station house early this morning. So I thought I'd bring him home."

"I'm glad you did. Please, Jill, come in. Well - since we have no roof, it's more out than in...there's someone I'd like you to meet." Jill followed Fraser into the cabin. Ray looked up from where he had been seated on the floor. He was immediately taken. He'd only ever seen one attractive female Mountie before, but she was hardly his type, personality wise. But with her dark hair, dark brown eyes and shapely figure - even with the unflattering uniform...he turned his charm meter up to full and immediately sprang to his feet.

Fraser made the introductions. "Jill, this is Ray Vecchio. Colleague and close friend. Ray, this is Gillian Dunstan, RCMP sergeant. We trained together."

"Enchanted." Realising that Fraser had missed a vital qualification from his introduction, he decided to rectify it. "That's _Detective_ Ray Vecchio. Chicago PD."

"Very nice to meet you. I'm Gillian with a G, Jill with a J - just to clear up any confusion later." She looked back to Fraser. "I was actually thinking about you just last night. What has it been now, six years?"

"I believe so. And you recognised Dief after all this time?"

"I never forget a face."

Feeling left out, Ray butted in. "I never forget a nose."

"That's a little more precise science. I need a little more to go on." Jill's eyes scanned Ray's own visage, finally landing in direct contact with his eyes. "I'll never forget your face, that's for sure. It's very distinctive. Especially that smile."

"Why, thank you, Jill with a J." Ray suddenly felt slightly self conscious and was now finding it hard to stop smiling. "On the subject of noses...in all the time you've known Benny - have you ever heard him sneeze?"

"Why do you ask?"

"He's been sneezing for the last hour. He says it's sawdust. I say it's a cold. I promise to go along with whatever you say."

Jill's face creased into a frown. "Now you mention it, I can't say I ever..." She was cut off as Fraser suddenly sneezed again, then blew his nose loudly and apologised. "Well..." she laughed, "I have now." She turned her attention to Fraser. "Are you feeling alright, Ben?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Jill looked at Ray and raised her eyebrows. "Did you know he was going to say that? I sure did. I remember when he jumped off a sixty foot cliff during training..."

"Fifty seven." Fraser interrupted.

"Of course, that makes all the difference." Her attention back on Ray, she continued. "I found him at the bottom of the cliff. He'd broken his leg in two places, it was bent in a way I've never seen before or since...and when I asked if he was alright, three guesses what he said?"

"That he was fine?"

"That's right." Back to Fraser. "Sit." Fraser sat and she put the back of her hand to his forehead. "Ben - you're burning up."

Ray sighed and slumped back down to the floor. "Oh, god, I can't take him anywhere."

"I think you've probably got the 'flu. What I want you to do is stay as warm as you can - which may seem hard while you've got a temperature, but do it. Don't do any work - " she looked to Ray "...and you don't let him do any work, OK? Get plenty of liquid inside you. I'll get you some medicine from the nearest town, and I'll be back tonight." She hunkered down, and looked into Fraser's eyes. "If you're no better in a few days, then I'll make sure we get you some proper medical attention, alright?"

Fraser nodded, with obvious reluctance. Ray too, was reluctant to see Jill leave. "You're leaving already?"

She nodded. "I've got work to do. A case that I can't seem to work through. I was going to ask Fraser's advice, but..."

"I'm sure I could help. And I'm sure he will too, 'flu or no 'flu."

"OK. I'll fill you in tonight." She glanced at her watch. "I really do have to go. You..." she gestured to Fraser "Take care of yourself. And you...it was a pleasure to meet you. Look after him, won't you."

"You can bet on it." Remembering his manners, Ray got to his feet. "I'll show you - um...out."

"Would that be through the door or through the window?" She joked as Ray accompanied her outside.

"Thanks for bringing Dief back. Fraser was getting worried. And don't worry about him," He gestured backwards with his head. "He'll be fine. You can't keep a good man down."

"He's the personification of the phrase." Jill smiled. "I'll see you again."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Jill reached out and almost imperceptibly touched his hand. "Bye."

"Yeah." Ray watched as Jill retreated to her car. It had been a long time since a woman had had such an instant impact on him. As far as he was concerned, tonight couldn't come quickly enough.

OoooO

After watching Jill's car disappear over the hill, Ray turned back to Fraser, who had resumed welcoming back Dief. Dief had started sniffing the remnants of their lunch - although Jill had given him a bowl of kibble he wouldn't feel satisfied until he had some desert - preferably some of the chocolate that Fraser had brought in his bag. Fraser made to get up to retrieve the bag from the far corner of the room, but Ray restrained him with a hand. "You stay put. I'll get it." Ray leant over and grabbed the bag, and had to push Dief's eager snout out of the way before he could retrieve anything from inside. He came up with a bag of Dief's favourite biscuits, and ripped it open, placing half of the contents on the floor beside him, where Dief happily began wolfing them up.

"So..." Ray said, pulling another chair over, and seating himself, then after adjusting his position to a distance where he hoped none of Fraser's germs would catch him continued, "So that's Jill."

"Yes, Ray. I must admit it came as quite a surprise to..." Ray winced and pulled back as Fraser looked like he was going to sneeze. But he simply sniffed and carried on. "...to see her here. We lost touch quite a while ago."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Six years ago. At the Musical Ride. We spent most of the day together, reminiscing. We've known each other for over twenty years."

"You were good friends, huh?"

Fraser blew his nose and his reply came from behind his handkerchief. "Very good friends."

Ray's eyes widened. "So is that very good friends as in like, I dunno, you and me, or very good friends as in very good friends in the man and woman type sense?"

Fraser picked up his mug and drained the last of his tea. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ray."

"No, Benny - I know you. You know exactly what I'm talking about but you don't want to tell me."

"It was a long time ago, Ray. Really. Any feelings that I did have for her..."

Ray jumped in "So you did have feelings for her?"

"We dated. Briefly. That was really all there was to it. It ended - but we remained friends."

"So she said she wanted to be friends and she actually meant it?" Ray shook his head in disbelief. "That's a new one on me, Benny. And - any feelings that you did have for her..."

"Have long since passed."

"So you _were_ in love with her?" Ray pressed.

Fraser's eyes flicked up to meet Ray's. Then he shrugged and simply nodded. "And in a way, I still do love her."

Ray's face visibly dropped. "You do?"

"Like a sister. Not in any other way." There was a pause, and then Fraser smiled. "I know you're attracted to her, Ray. And if you wanted to pursue it - I wouldn't stand in your way." Almost as if to prove his point, Fraser stood to replace his mug on the stove and wobbled dangerously.

"I can see that..." Ray said, jumping to Fraser's rescue and gently forcing him back down into his chair. Retaking his own seat, he sighed. "But what would be the point, though? We're only here two weeks, Benny. Hardly a long term relationship."

"It will give you a chance to get to know each other. You can help her with her case...spend time with her. If it's meant to be, Ray, then there will be a way."

"And I guess if I don't try, I'll never know, huh?"

"Precisely. And - I would like nothing better than if it did work out between you two. You're my best friends."

Ray and Fraser made eye contact and shared one of their more intense bonding moments, which, as usual, was broken by Ray getting extremely self conscious. "So...yeah..." Ray clamped his hands to his knees and made to rise from his chair. "Better get back to it. That is, _I'd_ better get back to it."

"Will you be all right? Sawing the planks, I mean?"

"I have no idea." Ray finally stood and pulled on his coat. "Guess there's no harm in trying. I might be a natural." He rubbed his hands together and made a passable impersonation of someone who was actually keen to get going.

Fraser, naturally, was sceptical. "I'm going to have to show you."

"Benny..." Ray warned, but Fraser was already on his feet and pulling on his own thick red plaid jacket.

"I'm fine, honestly, Ray. Even if this is the flu virus, Jill will be back with some medicine later and I'll be back to my old self before you can say 'Jimmy-Crack-Corn'."

"All right. But just tell me what to do, OK? Don't demonstrate. I don't want you to tire yourself out."

Fraser raised his hands in supplication. "Of course."

OoooO

An hour later, Fraser watched as Ray found himself once more atop the ladder, nailing the first plank that he had successfully - at least according to Fraser's exacting specifications - sawed from the latest log.

"Ray - I think you'll find..."

Ray looked down over his shoulder. "Benny. Please. Stop it. I'm the one up here. I can see what I'm doing. I _know_ what I'm doing."

Fraser shrugged. "If you insist."

"I do." Holding the plank in place with his elbow he began banging in the first nail, which held. Then the second. He beamed triumphantly down at Fraser, then backed down the ladder, moving it over and ascending it once more. It was only from this angle that he noticed what was wrong. It was at least three inches shy of the support beam. There was a gaping hole from the outside of the cabin to the inside. He swallowed. Try as he may, there was no way he could hide the fact. "Um...Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser looked up. "Oh dear."

"Ever considered installing an extractor fan?"

"You're going to have to take that one down, Ray. We can use it again, further up."

Sighing as loud as his lungs would allow, Ray climbed back down the ladder and again shifted to his original position. Throwing what may have been an unnecessary black look at Fraser (but it certainly made him feel better), up he went again. He regarded the plank. "So how do I get it out?"

"Just pull it. Place your hand on the other side of the plank and pull. But hold on tight with your other hand. I don't want you to fall."

"That makes two of us." Ray did as bid and with all his muscle power he pulled at the plank and felt it pull free of the support beam. Unable to hold onto it, he yelled. "Look out below!" and let it go. It landed on it's shortest side, and with a sickening crack, split widthways across the middle.

Fraser looked at it.

Ray looked at it.

Then Ray shrugged. "Firewood?"

"Evidently."

"Better give it another go, huh?" Ray said, on his way back down the ladder. "But let me measure up this time. I know you have 20/20 eyesight, Benny, but the 'flu symptom known as blurry eye can prove somewhat problematic."

"OK, Ray." Fraser sounded almost acquiescent and Ray turned to him. He looked completely shattered, pale, yet flushed at the same time.

"You look like hell, Benny." To hide his concern, he phrased it almost as an admonishment.

"I'm..."

"Fine. Yeah - I know." Ray disappeared around the corner of the building, and then a few moments later reappeared. "C'mon Benny, you'll have to show me how to do this again."

Fraser nodded, but the action started a violent coughing fit. Ray could only look on, his face creasing in worry until it subsided. And then, he grabbed Fraser's arm and guided him gently back into the cabin. He deposited him back by the stove, took a blanket from their makeshift den and wrapped it around his shoulders, then silently prepared him a mug of coffee. "Stay here. I don't want you to move until Jill gets back. If you need anything, just yell, alright?"

"Alright, Ray." Dief trotted over and snuggled himself up against Fraser's feet. It was almost as if he knew his master was unwell and he wanted to comfort him. "If you're sure you can cope..."

"I can cope. Just feel better, OK?"

A nod. A smile. A sneeze.

"I'll try, Ray."

Ray made for the door, paused, then looked back. "I think I know where you picked this up."

"Really?" Fraser's eyebrows hiked in surprise.

"Remember when we were on that bus? And that guy sneezed all over you? It was a couple of weeks back now."

Fraser's face showed dawning recognition. "Yes. Now you mention it. It's a strange thing to have stuck in your mind, though, Ray."

"The sneeze wouldn't have. It was your reaction that I remember. Now _I_ would have punched the guys lights out, and reminded him of the existence of the handkerchief by ramming one down his throat. But, you, oh, no...you...you said 'Bless You!' and you hoped that he was soon feeling better!" Ray realised that his voice had raised and he was beginning to sound angry. So he toned down his voice, and looked at Fraser shaking his head. "And now look at you. But you'd do it again, wouldn't you?" Fraser simply nodded in response. "I give up. I swear I do." Ray disappeared out through the door but his voice drifted back a few seconds later. "And I don't want to hear a peep out of you. I know that you can hear when someone is sawing wonky, but I don't want to know. Practice makes perfect, Benny, you know."

OoooO

Practise may not have made perfect but it did make pretty competent, and Fraser was becoming more relaxed about leaving Ray to his work. Not that he liked sitting around doing nothing, but he guessed that he didn't have much choice. As well as Ray was coping, there was no way he was going to have the cabin anywhere near completion on time on his own, and he felt it was his responsibility to get over this virus as soon as he could and get back to work.

Still, it gave him a chance to survey the internal damage to the cabin, and right now he was regarding another of the wooden chairs, which had been almost completely destroyed in the fire. From what his father had told him, the chairs had been a wedding gift from his Uncle Tiberius, his father's only sibling, who had not followed his older brother into the RCMP but had opened a profitable woodworking business. Sadly, he had died way before his time, in an incident involving cabbages, the true nature of which had never really come clear. Fraser cursed himself now that he had turned down his Uncle's offer of woodworking lessons.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed for the first time that one of the floorboards was not actually nailed to the floor. It must have been where Victoria had stashed the proceeds to the robbery. In her hurry to get out after setting fire to the cabin she must have simply replaced the plank, thinking that no-one would ever know - that the cabin would be totally destroyed. Although it had taken the Mounties' around two hours to get there, amazingly, it hadn't. The cabin had been covered in snow, which had helped keep the blaze somewhat under control.

So now, he stood, and lifted the plank. There was a gap underneath about 12 inches deep. And in the gap, there was a box. A wooden box. It was of simple construction, and almost shoddily made, so it mustn't have been Tiberius's work. It could well have been made by his father. Intrigued now, he picked up the box, and returning to his chair, opened it and tipped the contents onto his lap.

Oddments of jewellery. Money, long since out of tender. And photographs. His father with his parents. With Tiberius. On his own graduation day.

And then, what appeared to be a professional portrait of his mother, aged about 20. Although Fraser barely remembered her, he still smiled, running his finger over her face. She had had grey eyes, he remembered, his father blue. And almost as if the genes had mixed together in perfect harmony, Fraser had been born with eyes that were neither truly blue, nor truly grey. In combination with his dark hair, it probably explained his inexplicable - at least to him - attractiveness to the female species. His father told him that one other thing his mother had left him, was his inherent kindness, his caring nature.

And Fraser could believe that was true - it was his one lasting memory of her. She had never raised her voice in anger towards him, had always been ready with a hug when he fell and hurt his knee. She always used to tell him a story - or sing him a song, to take his mind away from the pain. And as far as he could recall, it had always worked.

He sighed almost angrily. Had she not suffered from tuberculosis, had she not become weak, she should rightly still be alive today. She would have been sixty years old. And, of course, the same went for his father. Since his death, Fraser had somehow found himself still striving to make them both proud.

He needn't have worried.

He replaced the picture into the box, then looked at the next. His mother, once more. With a baby. A slow smile spread across his face. Turning the picture over, he saw a date. May 30th, 1960.

He would have been exactly a month old.

"That was always my favourite."

Fraser glanced up. He should have known. How could he possibly resist? "I wondered when you'd show up."

Robert Fraser smiled, and looked around the cabin. "So you're doing it. Though I still don't really understand why."

"I have my reasons, Dad."

Robert regarded his son. "Are you thinking of retiring, son? Coming back here?"

"Hardly, Dad. I've still got a few years left in me yet."

"Yes, well, that's what I thought." He moved round behind Fraser and looked again at the photograph. "I can't believe that was nearly forty years ago."

Fraser grimaced. "Thanks for reminding me."

"And thirty two years since Caroline passed on. I can almost still feel her here, Ben."

Fraser was silent for a moment, then admitted. "I can't."

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of, son. If you recalled everything from your first five years, your brain would never have room for anything else." Robert moved back around to face Fraser.

"That's very true. Though I still wish I could." Fraser made to put the picture back in the box, but Robert stopped him. "You may as well take that back to Chicago with you. Better than have it hiding in a box."

"Thank you."

"Well, it's a picture of you. Who is more entitled?" Robert sighed, then regarded his son properly for the first time. "Are you feeling alright, son? You look a little peaked."

"I believe that I have the 'flu."

"Oh. A nasty business. Still, not as bad as it used to be. The influenza epidemic of 1918..."

"Killed more people that the First World War. I know, Dad. This is a completely different strain." There was an enforced break in the proceedings while Fraser sneezed loudly into his handkerchief.

"That's how it started with your mother, you know. A cold, that wouldn't go away."

"Dad..."

"It was months before she was diagnosed. And of course, by then it was almost too late. The antibiotics didn't really make much of an effect."

"Dad..."

"Then it was just really a case of hoping. But she was never a physically strong woman, your mother."

"Dad!"

"It just goes to show that you never really know. Fine one day, the next day..." Robert slapped his hands together, making Fraser jump. "That's it. You're either gone or counting down the days."

"Dad..."

"Yes, son?"

"You're really not making me feel any better, Dad."

"Sorry, son." He smiled wryly. "Guess it's just my way of telling you to take care of yourself. Don't exhert yourself, drink plenty of..."

"Liquids. Yes, I know. Plus I'll be receiving some medicine tonight." Fraser closed the box and placed on the floor by his feet. "Do you remember Gillian Dunstan?"

Robert pondered for a moment, then his face betrayed signs of realisation. "That girlfriend of yours. When you were, what, nineteen? Yes. Yes - a nice girl. Your grandmother doted on her. She was almost planning the wedding."

"She came around early today. Dief went missing yesterday and somehow ended up at her station house. She brought him back. And she'll be back tonight. With the medicine."

"Sounds to me like your wolf is matchmaking."

"In a sense."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She seems to have developed an attraction to Ray. And as far as I can gather, the feeling is mutual."

Robert was, in a word, shocked. "The Yank?"

"Yes, Dad."

"The Yank?"

"Yes. It's not that impossible to believe is it?"

"Well," he said, as he headed towards the cabin door. "I guess it is true what they say."

"What's that?"

"It really does take all sorts to make a world." He turned around and regarded Fraser once more. "But I suppose that's not entirely a bad thing."

"No. It isn't."

And with that, Robert was gone, and Fraser returned his attention to the contents of his box of memories.

OoooO

His mouth full of sandwich, Ray leant over and took the photograph that Fraser was passing over to him. He examined it, chewed and swallowed, then grinned at Fraser. "Very cute. I can actually tell it's you."

"Really?"

"Yeah - well, first off - that expression on your face. It's the same one you have when you're on door duty. It looks like you're practising."

Fraser smiled and shook his head. "What else?"

"I would think that was blatantly obvious." Ray put down his sandwich, picked up his mug and took a large mouthful. He pushed the photo back to Fraser, who looked at it, but didn't notice anything. "I don't see it."

"You're playing with your ear." He laughed as Fraser's face creased into a frown. "I _knew_ you didn't know you did that."

"What?"

"You do it when you're going to tell someone something that you'd rather not tell them. Like when you're about to announce one of your plans."

"I play with my _ear_?"

"Well, to be more precise, you tug your earlobe. To be even more precise..." he said around another mouthful of sandwich, "it's almost always your left one."

"I was completely unaware of that. Up until now, that is." Fraser seemed astounded to be told something about himself that he didn't actually know. "Have you noticed me doing anything else like that?"

"You also scratch your neck."

Standing, Fraser looked back at Ray. "Ah, well, I am aware of that. That's due to my uniform collar. It tends to chafe."

"Oh." Ray shrugged and leant back in his chair. "So do I do anything like that?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

Ray simply said "Oh." again. Then he glanced at his watch. "When did Jill say she was coming?"

"She didn't. But she should be here before dark. Fortunately I am feeling a little better." He then gave immediate lie to that statement by sneezing three times in quick succession. After blowing his nose loudly, he looked at Ray almost sheepishly. "At least, I _was_."

"I wonder what that case is all about?"

"I believe it must be something fairly taxing. Did you note the dark rings under her eyes? It seemed to me that she can't have had much sleep recently - certainly not for the last few days."

Ray hadn't noticed. He had been more interested in her eyes themselves than any dark shadows that may have lain underneath. He blew air out from his cheeks. "Seems like even when I'm on holiday I'm at work."

"A good policeman is never off duty." Then, after pondering his statement, he continued, "Well, apart from when he's asleep..."

OoooO

If that were true, then Fraser was definitely off duty by the time Jill arrived, just before dusk. With an aching head, and an inability to keep his eyes open, he had retired reluctantly back underneath the table, cosily ensconced in Ray's sleeping bag. Ray had just arrived back in the cabin after finishing for the day, and after finding that any hopes he had for conversing with Fraser, or more specifically, asking him more about Jill, had been dashed he settled himself in a chair.

Silence and Ray Vecchio usually made strange bedfellows, but he found the quiet strangely calming. The noises he had been so wary of the previous night were still out there, but he no longer had the same fear, he knew they weren't after him. As long as he stayed in here, and they stayed out there, they could live in perfect harmony. He glanced down at his hands, and decided to try once again to retrieve a wooden splinter that had dug into his finger. Hardly a major industrial injury, but an irritation nonetheless. He sucked at the end of his finger, and then, squinting, he began trying to grab the minute piece of wood between his fingers. No easy task, in the dim light of the lamp. But ten minutes later, he finally managed to gain a hold, and, holding in his breath, he began to wriggle it free.

Diefenbaker, who until then had been posted outside, had seen Jill's jeep arrive and felt it his duty to inform the occupants of the cabin. He padded in, and looking at Fraser's sleeping form and deciding to carry on straight past, he walked up to Ray, who by this point was so focused on his task which was now near complete he didn't realise he was conducting a running commentary of his activities.

"Nearly. Nearly there. Just a little bit more, and it'll be out..." Dief cocked his head, and, after deciding whether his news was more important than Ray's current task (it was) he decided to interrupt with a bark.

Ray physically jumped. His hands involuntarily clamped down on the arms of the chair, and in doing so, the splinter was driven back into his finger - even deeper than before.

Ray's eyes met Dief's with a glare. "Well, thank you, Diefenbaker. Next time you get some glass in your paw, remind me to remove it with..."

"Remove it with what?"

Ray shot up from his seat, the splinter and Dief forgotten. Dief greeted Jill then padded back to Fraser and lay down, and was soon also asleep.

"Uh...nothing. Hi, Jill. It's great to see you again."

She placed a brown paper bag down on the table, and noticing Fraser bundled up underneath lowered her voice to a near whisper. "How's the patient?"

"He's OK. Improving a bit. Might just be one of those forty eight hour things."

"Well, I've brought some medicine. From the local Inuit village."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Oh, boy, let me guess. An ancient Inuit poultice made of ground up walrus tusk seeped in the milk of a lactating polar bear."

"That's quite an imagination you've got there."

"Thanks."

"Although I believe that that may work...I've stuck to the slightly more modern Inuit method of dealing with influenza type maladies."

"Which is?"

Jill reached in and pulled out a distinctive yellow box. "Aspirin." She placed the pack on the table top. "Not that I don't believe in natural remedies, which is why I bought..."

"I can't wait..."

"Lemons." She pulled three lemons out of the bag, and placed them, one beside the other next to the aspirin. "And..." Next was a small glass jar filled with a thick opaque brown liquid.

Ray grinned. "Honey."

"It won't stop you getting the 'flu, but it'll make you feel better during it. It'll soothe your throat, give you vitamin C...you haven't had any symptoms, have you?"

"No. Benny and I have this arrangement. He breathes near me, I hit him."

"I assume you're joking." She gestured back to the supplies on the table. "So, just uh, chop up the lemon, let it steep in some boiling water..."

"And add the honey to taste. That particular natural remedy _has_ reached the States."

"And you take some too. If nothing else it'll keep you warm." She regarded him , then reached out and took his hand, which bore the distinctive red and white pattern of poor circulation. "Which you must always remember to do." Examining his hand, she spotted the splinter he had taken so long to try to get out. In an instant, she had grabbed it between her fingernails and whipped it out, before Ray had had a chance to react, let alone feel pain.

"Thanks."

"It's nothing." She then removed the back pack she had been carrying and took off her jacket, which, after looking round for somewhere to put it, then shrugging, she placed on the floor. "Look, you know I mentioned that case..." She began unbuckling her backpack. "I've brought some files over. I've been reading them night after night for days, I'd appreciate some fresh eyes on them. I was hoping Ben could, but..."

"No, that's cool. And you never know, he might wake up." Then, grinning, he said "And he might let me have my sleeping bag back."

OoooO

"Well," Ray said, after closing the latest file, "It seems that the problem of bent cops doesn't stop at the border." The list of reasons these Mounties had left the force or had been reprimanded very plainly mirrored the reasons why US cops had had their badges and shields taken away - corruption, violence - both to the general public and even their own families, even using their criminal knowledge to commit crimes themselves.

"They're not all like Ben." She slid a glance down under the table. Fraser was still fast asleep. "I've never really known anyone quite as dedicated as him."

"You haven't met Constable Turnbull. Dedicated to the extreme. But also unfortunately completely wacko. Although I do occasionally have cause to worry about Benny's mental state, he's generally very level headed. Unlike me."

"Chalk and cheese, huh?"

"Yeah." Ray grabbed the next file and began skimming the pages. "So, we're looking for any violence towards women and children, right?"

Jill shrugged. "Sounds like the best place to start." They read the files in silence for a moment, but Ray wanted to keep the conversation going. But any smart quip he could come up with was almost involuntarily replaced with "So - are you married?"

Jill almost spat out her mouthful of coffee. Regaining her composure, she finally managed to swallow, and simply said "No."

"What was so funny about that?"

"You're not very subtle, are you?"

Ray grinned enigmatically. "Boyfriend?"

"No. Not at this point in time." She made a broad sweeping gesture towards the files on the table. "Guess I'm too wrapped up in my work."

"So you're not saving yourself for Sleeping Beauty?"

"No. That was over many, many years ago." She lowered her voice. "Is he seeing anyone?"

"No - but I think it's not beyond the realms of possibility for the near future. He's got this thing for his boss. Not that he'll admit to it, of course."

"His boss?"

"Inspector Margaret Thatcher."

Jill eyes widened in surprise. "Maggie?"

"Well, we call her Meg, but...you know her?"

"Sure do. I was posted with her for a couple of years. On duty - well, she was definitely on her way up. I'd never come across anyone more ambitious. Off duty, though..."

"What?"

"A regular party girl. She could drink even the men under the table. When she wasn't dancing on top of it, of course. Quite a personality. Remember me to her, will you?"

"Yeah, sure...are you sure it's the same person?"

"Well, I know she's an Inspector. And that she moved to the States." She then glanced under the table as she heard movement. "Hi, Ben."

"Hi, Jill."

Ray bent over and looked under the table. "Hey, Benny, come on up. Jill can tell you tales about Inspector Thatcher that'll mean you'll never look at her in quite the same way again."

"I'd like to Ray..."

Ray sighed, and rolled his eyes. "What's up?"

"The zip's stuck."

Ray looked up at Jill. "It really is a laugh a minute with this guy, y'know."

OoooO

With Fraser's help, the pile of files began to gradually diminish. With a system that Ray claimed he had been using for years with a reasonable amount of success - known as dividing the files into three separate piles, the 'definitely look into' pile, the 'possibly look into, but only after the first pile has been looked into' pile and the 'no chance, and no point looking into them unless all else fails' pile, they were gradually narrowing the search down. Out of thirty files, twelve were in the definitely not pile, ten were in the possibles, and five were in the probables. The other three were still in the hands of the three law enforcers gathered around the table. Ray was the first to drop his file - into the definitely nots.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's not him. No - I'm definite it's not him. Unnatural acts with fur bearing animals aside, I'm sure that doesn't lead to a murderous predisposition." Jill looked at him and smirked. Fraser likewise dropped his file into the definitely not pile, soon after followed by Jill, who dropped hers into the possibles.

"Despite any apprehensions I had to begin with, this really is a great system, Ray. We've whittled it down to a sixth of what it was before." She extracted three large rubber bands from her back pack and put them round the three separate piles. "Thanks, guys. I was going fact blind. I'll look into the first five tomorrow." She glanced down at her watch. "Jeez - it nearly is tomorrow."

Ray nodded. "Guess you have to get going."

"Yeah. I'm sorry it's been all business tonight, guys."

"That's no problem." Fraser stood, and retrieved Jill's jacket, which he, as much the gentleman as ever, helped her to put on. "It took my mind off my troublesome sinuses." After looking thoughtful for a moment, he continued "This would really be a lot easier if we could have a description of the killer. Were there no other witnesses?"

"No. The attack happened late at night in the victim's house. The little girl, Alice, was the only witness. She received a head injury after being pushed into a wall, and coupled with the immense trauma of the event, she either can't recall, or won't recall what her mother's killer looked like."

"How many people have tried to get through to her?"

"Loads. I have - doctors, psychologists...she's a great little girl. Sometimes it's as if she doesn't remember any of it at all. She knows her mom's dead, but the circumstances surrounding it...they seem to have just gone. Maybe it's a good thing, I don't know. But as you say, this could be so much easier of we could get her to remember what he looked like. Even vaguely."

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't try?"

Jill looked at him , surprised. "Well...no, I guess not. But I doubt if you can achieve more than anyone else has. But if you really want to give it a go - by all means. I can arrange it for you, let you know when we can get her to the station..."

"Why don't you bring her out here? The official surroundings may be a little intimidating."

"Sure." Jill's face broke into a smile. "Thanks, Ben. I don't know why but I get this feeling that you might just be able to get through to her, if anyone can."

"I hope so."

"But for now, you just get some sleep and get better. And Ray..." she said, looking over Fraser's shoulder. "Thanks again. I'll be seeing you."

"Looking forward to it." Ray grinned. "Goodnight." He watched as Fraser and Jill headed out into the night. He glanced down at his sleeping bag, which Fraser had vacated, and he thought about snatching it back while Fraser was otherwise occupied. But then he laughed wryly and shook his head. It looked like a night under the blanket for him.

OoooO

"Jill, I don't know whether or not to tell you this, but Ray..."

Jill looked up from where she was putting the key in the jeep lock. "Has a crush on me?"

"That's one way of phrasing it."

"It's very flattering. And I must admit, I certainly find him attractive. Looks and personality wise. Are you matchmaking, Benton Fraser?" She said as she jumped into the cab.

"No. I just thought I would mention it. Ray has this habit of not making his feelings known until it's too late."

"Well, tell him from me that if he suggested a dinner date then I'd probably find it very hard to say no."

"I'll do that."

"As long as it won't make you jealous." Fraser didn't reply and Jill looked up. "Ben?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you just flushed or are you blushing?"

"Well, it's, um, well, that is, I..."

Jill signalled the end to the subject by turning the key in the ignition and gunning the engine. "I'll be seeing you." After shifting the gear stick into drive, she made her parting comment. "Just, tell Ray what I told you, OK?" And with that she was moving.

Fraser nodded, and raised a hand in farewell.

OoooO

When Fraser woke the next morning, it surprised him to discover that Ray had already got himself up, breakfasted, and started work. He squinted at his watch. 9 am. He was immediately disgusted at himself for his tardiness. For him, this was a serious sleep-in. He inhaled experimentally through his nose and was relieved to discover it was a little clearer than the day before. His 'flu, or cold, was taking the usual course, starting in the head, moving down to the throat, before finally settling on the chest for a few days until his internal army of white blood cells finally vanquished the invader. Peeping up over the edge of the table, he noticed that Ray had left him a mug of coffee which was still steaming, and a bowl of porridge which was keeping warm on the stove. He blinked in surprise, then he felt a mild concern in his chest that perhaps Ray, too, was sickening for something.

Or maybe he was just being a good friend. Fraser knew that he would have done the same thing. He ran a hand over his slightly mussed hair to flatten it, then poked his head out of the door. The buzz of the saw assailed his ears, and he watched for a moment. Ray had certainly picked the skill up with amazing ease. He wouldn't need his help, at least not yet. Sipping his coffee, and changing into his comfiest jeans and plaid shirt, he felt a tangible sense of satisfaction, and happiness. Here he was, in his childhood home, in the land he loved, with his best friend. He didn't know if he dared hope for anything more. The cold he could do without, but otherwise...

...things were just about perfect.

And like the famous children's tale about a flaxen haired girl, so was his porridge. He was just savouring the last spoonful when Ray appeared in the doorway, flushed from his exertions and grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, Benny, how you feeling?"

Ray's infectious grin worked it's magic on Fraser's own face, and he smiled. "Much better, thank you kindly Ray."

"So you're up to helping out?"

Fraser decisively replaced his spoon into his bowl and stood, rubbing his hands together. "Where do I start?"

OoooO

Ray - now officially appointed foreman - set Fraser to measuring up for the new window on the gable end of the cabin. A simple job for some, but Fraser was taking his merry time and Ray was intrigued as to why he was taking so long. He watched as Fraser measured the gap lengthways top and bottom, then across the width. Each time, a look of concern crossed his face. After three rounds, Ray had to interrupt.

"Hey, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"What are you doing?"

"Measuring, Ray."

"I can see that. How many more times are you going to do it?"

"The sides of this window frame, Ray, are all different lengths. Some even have more than an inch difference."

Ray looked at him, infinitely patient. "So?"

"I'd never noticed before."

Ray's mouth dropped open, and he gazed at Fraser in amazement. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he retraced the conversation to: "So?"

"This window has been lopsided since this cabin was built and I never noticed it. I've always prided myself on my observational skills. But I never noticed something this fundamental, this close to home."

Ray shrugged. "I guess it's just one of those things. You were born here, right? So that window was just always that window. It was always like that, always lopsided. You accepted it, right, and never thought about it. If you had thought about it, you probably would have noticed."

Fraser fought to see Ray's logic. "I suppose so. But looking at the frame now - isn't it obvious that it's lopsided?"

Ray moved over next to Fraser and took a few steps back. "Yeah. It sure is. I don't know how your dad got the window in there in the first place. Unless he made the window lopsided too. Like I say, Benny, it's just one of those things. It's staring you right in the face but unless you take a few steps back you just can't see it." Ray disappeared back round the corner, and left Fraser deep in thought. Philosophy aside, he was now left with the practicalities of making a window which was deliberately askew. And with his exacting standards, it was going to be a mentally painful task.

OoooO

The sawing was, to Ray, becoming a physically painful task and a band of pain was emerging between his shoulder blades. He lay aside the saw, and, cautiously standing, flexed his spine to ease away some of the pain. As he did so, he gazed off into the distance. He thought he saw movement, and focused his attention further. No - it was gone. And then...yes. A flash of red.

And it wasn't long before the noise of an engine filled his ears. The moving red object was closer now, and Ray identified it as a pick-up truck. Looked like a visitor, though who, he had yet to discover.

The noise had attracted Fraser's attention, and they watched as the pickup drew up near the cabin and a burly man in Mountie browns jumped out. He was tall, taller than both Fraser and Ray, and built like one of the smaller outhouses. As he approached they saw that he had a pleasant face and warm smile.

"You're Fraser and Ray, right? I'm Bob Myers. Friend of Jill's."

Fraser stepped forward and extended his hand, which was all but engulfed in Myers' grasp. "Nice to meet you."

"You too. I've just come over to deliver a couple of messages from Jill. You know, you guys should really get a radio out here."

Fraser nodded. "The radio was destroyed in the fire. As we're only here a couple of weeks, we didn't deem it necessary."

Myers seemed to accept that. "Like I was saying..." His attention drifted off. He was looking at Ray who was regarding him with a mix of bemusement and amazement. Confidentially, he said to Fraser. "Why's your friend looking at me like that?"

"I believe it's because of your accent."

"My accent?"

Ray decided, now he had regained the use of his vocal cords, to interject. "You're American, right?"

"From New Jersey?" Fraser was confident that he had American dialects and accents off pat. So he was disturbed when Myers shook his head.

"Connecticut."

"You're sure?" Realising what he had said, Fraser mentally kicked himself. How could he possibly insinuate that this man didn't know where he was brought up?

"Uh - yeah." He gave Ray a questioning look. "Chicago, right?"

"Right. Please forgive Benny - I think his hearing is a little off."

"Just a couple hundred miles. So, yeah - these messages. First off - she's started looking into those five files you picked out. One guy's dead, so I guess that's...Fraser, he's doing it again."

"Ray..."

"You're an American Mountie?" Ray shook his head. "I think I've seen everything now. Do you, uh, mind if I keep sawing?" He gestured back to the pile of planks. "This is getting too surreal." With that he was gone.

Fraser turned his attention back to Myers. "As you were saying..."

"Yeah. One guy - um, Jim Morris - he hung himself about three years ago. Which I guess puts him firmly out of the picture."

"I would imagine." Fraser watched as Myers extracted a RCMP issue notepad from his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

"Yeah. David Cook - he's slammed up for slapping his wife around. He won't get out for at least two years. And Chris Sale, he's working as a security guard for a firm in Toronto."

"The others?"

"They're still around. We trying to track down their whereabouts. We'll bring them in and see what transpires, I guess."

Fraser nodded. "Well, thank you kindly for imparting that information."

"There's something else too, Fraser. Uh - Jill said that she spoke to Alice's stepfather first thing this morning. He's OK about her coming here - he wants this guy caught as bad as we do and he guessed she couldn't be safer with three law enforcers around. This afternoon alright with you?"

"I had no idea it would be so soon, but, of course. Yes."

"Also, since Jill will be here and you want to talk to Alice alone, she thinks it'll be a good opportunity for her and your friend the carpenter over there to have a little 'quality time'." He moved in closer to Fraser. "She's really smitten with him y'know."

Fraser glanced over to Ray. "I believe the feeling is mutual."

Myers grinned broadly. "So lets hope we have happy endings all round, huh?" The laughter in his eyes faded briefly. "You really think you can get through to the little girl?"

"I don't know. But I feel that I have to try."

Myers smacked Fraser heartily across the back, an action which almost sent him flying face first into the snow. "Jill's right about you." He then pulled back his jacket sleeve and looked at his watch. "I've got to go. I live about an hour west - so if you need a hand with the renovations sometime, just give me a call. Or send smoke signals or something." He clicked his fingers together and his eyes lit up with inspiration. "You know semaphore?"

"Of course. A standard element of..."

"...basic training, yeah. So, semaphore me if you need a hand." He moved back over to the truck. "Say goodbye to Ray for me."

"I'll do that." Fraser watched and waved as Myers pulled away.

Sensing Ray was standing at his left shoulder, he waited for him to speak.

"So, what's he want?"

"Jill is bringing the little girl here this afternoon."

"So soon, huh?"

"I guess there's not a moment to waste, with her mother's killer still on the loose."

"Yeah. So, you're going to talk to her, on your own, right?"

"I think that would be best. No offence." Fraser threw a lop-sided smile in Ray's direction.

"Nah. None taken." Then, after a beat. "So, is, Jill, well, is - is she going to, stick around?"

"Yes, Ray."

"She is." Ray didn't sound as excited as he felt.

"And apparently she is intending on spending some, I believe he phrased it as 'quality time' with..."

"Me?"

"Yes, Ray."

Ray's heart did an impromptu cartwheel of excitement, and he would have physically followed suit had it not been for his aching arms. Instead, he simply punched Fraser playfully in the arm. Smiling to much to let his mouth form words, he half walked, half ran back to the wood pile and began sawing with renewed vigour.

OoooO

Alice Owen, the nine year old girl who had lived through a nightmare, was nothing like they had expected. She was bright, energetic, and had a ready smile. She seemed unfazed at having to spend an afternoon with three people she barely knew. When Dief arrived back, breathless after his afternoon run, her eyes lit up.

She looked up at Fraser. "Is that your dog?"

Fraser nodded. "He's called Diefenbaker." Dief trotted to Fraser's side and stood patiently, waiting to be introduced. "Dief, this is Alice." Dief barked a hello, and padded forward to be stroked.

"He's sweet." She giggled as his tongue lolled out and licked her across the face.

"I have a Frisbee in the cabin. How about a game of fetch?"

She nodded eagerly. In Fraser's absence, Jill stepped forward. "I brought you here so that Fraser can talk to you. I told him about you and he wants to be your friend."

Alice nodded almost solemnly. "I think he's already my friend. He's really nice."

Jill gestured to the cabin. "Ray and I will be in here."

Alice nodded, then tipped her head to a forty five degree angle. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Ray laughed and looked to Jill, who he could have sworn was fighting back a blush. "No..." he cut in, to save Jill any embarrassment. "I'm just a friend. A boy, who's a friend."

She narrowed he gaze. "You're not a boy. You're a man."

Ray widened his mouth into an 'O' of surprise. He ran his gaze up and down himself. "Really? I'd never noticed."

Alice gave Ray an expression of such superior disdain that he almost wilted. Jill surreptitiously looked at him and smirked. Thankfully, Fraser chose that moment to return. In his hand he held a red plastic Frisbee which he passed to Alice. "Go play with Dief. I'll be with you in a second."

Alice glanced up at Fraser and he thought that he could read something in her eyes. Though what, he had yet to place. While Alice ran and yelled to Dief to join her, Fraser turned back to Jill. "Is there anything else, that might help?"

"Well, the psychologists have found that basically she's a happy, well adjusted little girl. Possibly too happy and well adjusted. They think she's internalising things. But one thing...her mum used to sing to her. And they've found that, by using music, they have begun to draw some things out. She talks about her mum, briefly. But only what she remembers from before the murder. Usually stuff, y'know, play, the way she used to tuck her into bed..." Jill's conversation drifted off as she looked at Alice. She was about to speak again when Ray voiced her exact thoughts.

"Poor kid." The three nodded almost simultaneously.

"So - there's something in the back of the jeep that might help." Jill waved her hand in an open gesture. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Ray and Jill made for the cabin. His curiosity had been piqued, so he voiced his query "So what's in the jeep?"

"A guitar. My guitar."

"A guitar."

"Mmm."

"What use is that going to be?"

"Excuse me?"

"A guitar. What use is that going to be? Benny can't play the guitar."

Jill stopped in her tracks and gazed up at Ray, laughter in her eyes. "He can't, huh?"

"No. He can't really sing, either."

"Oh." Jill shrugged and walked on. Ray trotted after her.

"What?"

Jill shook her head. "Nothing."

"Jill..."

She finally turned and looked at him. "It just seems that maybe you don't know Fraser as well as you think you do." She spun back around and strode on. Ray looked from her, over to Fraser, then back. He sucked air into his cheeks till he looked like a crazed goldfish, then let it out slowly. It was true he thought, you really did learn something new every day. Even after two and a half years, Benton Fraser was still full of surprises.

OoooO

It had been a mistake, thought Fraser, to play 'get to the Frisbee before Dief' with Alice. Twenty minutes in, and he hadn't managed to even lay a finger on the disc before Dief would leap up, block his way and grab it between his teeth, wolfedly refusing to let go his grip until he had deposited it back to Alice. Dief had a new friend, and was determined to show off.

It had been a bigger mistake to do it when he was suffering from the 'flu. His chest had started becoming tighter and he was beginning to wheeze. As Alice made to throw the Frisbee one more time, he raised a hand to stop her. He walked back over to her and slumped down on the remnants of a tree trunk. She looked from Dief, to Fraser, then placed the Frisbee down in the snow and walked over to him. Dief grabbed the Frisbee and made a valiant attempt at playing fetch by himself.

An almost adult look crossed her face as she regarded Fraser. "Are you poorly?"

Fraser nodded. "Just a cold. I bet you've had a cold."

"Yes."

"I haven't had a cold since I was little. Younger than you are now."

Her face wrinkled up and she examined him. "That's a long time."

Fraser laughed, then coughed. "Thanks." He managed to croak.

"Do you live here?"

Fraser shook his head. "No. I live in Chicago. But I used to, all those years ago. First with my mum, then my grandparents."

"What about your dad?"

"He was away a lot. He was Mountie too."

"Can you only be a Mountie if your dad was one?"

"No. You could be a Mountie, if you wanted."

"What do you do?"

"We...we protect people. We chase the bad people, and lock them up so they can't hurt anyone anymore."

"Like on TV?"

"Like on TV."

"So you're like my dad."

"I thought your dad was in finance?"

She rolled her eyes and Fraser was surprised she didn't sigh and place her hands on her hips. "Not _him_. My _real_ dad. He was a policeman."

"Not a Mountie?"

"They don't have Mounties in America."

Suitably told, Fraser fought to regain some dignity. "They have me."

"My dad got killed before I was born. Someone shot him."

"I'm sorry."

"S'O.K."

"So your mum met your stepdad, and you moved here." It was a gambit, mentioning her mother, but one he had to take. Sadly, it was another in a long line of mistakes he had made that afternoon. Her attention drifted from him back to Dief, and without a word, she retrieved the red Frisbee and threw it into the air. Back to the drawing board, he thought. Then he called out. "I'm going to get a hot drink. Would you like one?"

Frisbee in hand, she turned around briefly and nodded, then looked back as Dief barked. Fraser sighed and headed back to the cabin.

OoooO

"It's a great icebreaker."

"I'm sure it is."

Neither of them had spotted Fraser at the door until he spoke. "Are you thinking about ice hole fishing? It's a little late in the season."

Both Jill and Ray looked at Fraser with identical expressions of incredulity. Then Ray glanced at Jill. "Y'know, when he says stuff like that, I find it's best just to put it behind you and move on." To Fraser. "No, Benny. We were trying to come up with a way to spend the afternoon. And, remember what I packed that you thought would have, what was it, 'no practical purpose in the wilds of the Northwest Territories.'?"

Seconds passed. Cogs whirred. Recognition dawned. "Well, it doesn't." Fraser filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

"It's practical for providing entertainment. I mean, Benny, bodies intertwined, arms and legs entangled, striving for impossible positions. It's not only entertaining, it's exercise."

Fraser, who was stoking the stove, coughed and inhaled a lungful of smoke. Not a good combination with a cold creeping down to his chest. He coughed for almost a minute, almost doubled over, and when he recovered he was audibly wheezing.

Ray was, in a word, worried. "Geez, are you alright?" A nod in return. "Sorry."

"It...ahem...wasn't your fault." The kettle was by now boiling, and he began to pour the water into mugs. "I just need to get one thing straight, Ray."

"What's that?"

"You _were_ talking about Twister, weren't you?"

OoooO

Relieved to discover that Ray had been indeed referring to the pastime of Twister rather than anything else that his lurid description had led him to believe, Fraser rejoined Alice, placing her hot tea on the trunk next to him and beckoning for her to join him. He'd had a flash of inspiration which he hoped that may help him make the vital breakthrough with Alice, and he needed Dief's help. Not something that could be relied on at the best of times, but he had to try. He slapped his hands against his jeaned legs and Dief trotted over, Frisbee still in mouth.

"Drop it." Fraser enunciated, motioning to the ground. Dief growled, and Fraser was sure that his boon companion shook his head. "Drop. It." Basically the same reaction again.

He felt Alice's elbow nudge him in the ribs. "You didn't say 'please', silly."

"Oh. How remiss of me. Dief. Drop it. _Please_."

Dief dutifully dropped the Frisbee on the ground and barked as if to say 'That's a little more like it.'

"Thank you kindly, Diefenbaker." Turning back to Alice, he explained his plan. "There's something which Dief is able to do, which is really quite amazing. I've never been able to come up with an explanation for it. Do you think you could help me?"

She narrowed her eyes into a frown. "How?"

"You know I told you Dief is deaf?" A nod. "Well, I'm going to tell him to run, far away..."

"How can you do that if he's deaf?"

"He lip reads."

"Oh." Alice shrugged and accepted that as a plausible explanation.

"...and then I want you to call him." There it was again - that indefinable expression that flitted across her tiny face. "What is it?"

"He won't come back."

"He will. He always does."

"But how can he hear you if he's deaf?"

"That's the tricky part. I've only over known him to do it for me. I'd like to know if he'd do it for you, too. Give it a try, at least."

Part of her expression, he realised now, was that of doubt. She nodded, albeit reluctantly.

Fraser stood, and forced Dief to look at him, and said two words. "Go long."

Dief didn't need asking twice. With lightning speed he disappeared off into the trees. Fraser waited a suitable amount of time - a little over a minute. Then - "Call him."

Nothing from Alice. Fraser hunkered down next to her. "He _will_ come back."

"He won't."

"I promise you he will. Please try."

Alice stuck out her lower lip, and regarded Fraser through a very adult frown. Then, she raised cupped hands to her mouth and yelled "DIEFENBAKER!"

Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Thirty. Alice looked up at Fraser like he'd betrayed her. And then - a crash of foliage, and her expression finally softened to a smile. She spread her arms and Dief ran into her welcoming embrace. Fraser stood and watched the scene. "Obviously he will do it for you too."

"He really came back." Alice was making no attempt to extricate herself from Dief's enthusiastic show of affection. Fraser picked up the Frisbee and used it to distract Dief's attention so that he could talk to Alice alone.

Settling back on the trunk, and taking a mouthful of his own hot beverage, he waited for Alice to speak.

"How does he do that?"

"I don't know. Although I do have a theory."

"Maybe he's not really deaf."

"No." Fraser shook his head regretfully. "No, he really is deaf. What I think is that even though he can't hear you, he can feel, or sense, that you want him. Or need him."

"How?"

"I don't know. It may have something to do with his natural instincts. You see, wolves live in packs. They are in constant danger out in the wild, and they protect each other. And as Dief is domesticated - we're part of his pack, as it were."

Alice looked from Fraser, to Dief, and back. "So he's always around when you need him?"

Fraser laughed wryly. "Well, not always. But if I'm really in trouble - or even if Ray is in trouble, he will help. He will be there. He's protecting us."

"Do people do that as well?"

"Of course they do." Fraser slipped an arm around Alice. "Especially families. They're kind of like wolf packs. When you're a child, your parents are there to protect you - and even when you grow older, they will always be there to help out. Look after your best interests. And, even when they're gone, through the influence they gave you when they were alive, they still have an effect." _Especially in my case_, was the thought that he left unspoken.

"My daddy looks after me."

"I bet he does."

"So who looks after you? If your mum and dad are dead? Who looks after you here?"

"Well, Dief..." He looked over to Dief who was now barking frantically at nothing that he could discern. "And my friends. They're my new family."

"Like Ray?"

"Especially Ray. We're best friends. Do you have a best friend?"

"Yeah. Sarah."

"I bet she looks out for you."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Once I fell over, and she took me to the nurse."

"That's exactly what I mean. That's what my mum used to do for me."

Sensing Alice's attention beginning to drift again, it was time for plan B. "Do you want to hear a song?"

"Yes, please." Fraser hoisted himself up and walked over to the jeep, retrieving Jill's guitar. Reseated, he nestled the guitar into his lap, and smiling, blew on his fingers to warm them up. "What song is it?"

"Just one I know. About friends. About people who are there for you."

"O.K. As long as we can sing something I know afterwards."

Fraser extended his hand for her to shake. "You've got it."

The setting was perfect, the snow, the log cabin. It was if he was back in the nineteenth century, singing a song passed down through the generations of a farming family. Finding the right chord, he began to sing, the tune simple but melodious, with obvious country influence.

_Though it's cold and though it's biting_

_A sword of chill runs through my soul_

_Something in me keeps on fighting_

_Because I know I'll reach my goal_

_For I know that if I tumble_

_If I stumble here and fall_

_You would find me here and take me home_

_You'd be prepared to give your all._

**Any burden you will carry**

**Any task you'll undertake**

**Though wolves may howl and winds burn chill**

**Your own life you would forsake**

**You would help me up and dust me down,**

**You'd forgive my foolish sin,**

**For we're partners now, forever**

**And this team will always win**

_Like a wise man said, together,_

_We make much more than the sum_

_Where I'm weak you make me stronger_

_Though two parts, we are as one_

_Though the fates may come to try us_

_We will rise up proud and true_

_And we'll face the foe and slay him down_

_And I'll owe my all to you_

**Any burden you will carry**

**Any task you'll undertake**

**Though wolves may howl and winds burn chill**

**Your own life you would forsake**

**You would help me up and dust me down,**

**You'd forgive my foolish sin,**

**For we're partners now, forever**

**And this team will always win**

The final chord echoed away into the breeze.Slapping his palm against the body of guitar, he said. "So, what do you think?"

"I like the words."

"Do you think they describe what I was talking to you about?"

"Yes."

"The other person in your team could be a parent, a friend, anyone you trust to look after you - and who can trust you to look after them. I'm sure you'd help Sarah if she was hurt."

A nod.

"Would you take her home to her mum?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So her mum could take care of her more." It was true, Fraser thought. Somehow music did make her open up.

"Mums are very good at that."

Another silent nod. And then, in almost a whisper. "My mummy was. She used to sing to me like you did. And she could play the guitar. Better than you, though." Fraser bit back a retort, just letting her speak."But she's gone away now. And she's not going to come back."

"Do you think she's still looking after you?"

"I don't know. I can't see her."

"Dief couldn't see you, but he knew you needed him."

A shrug. "Guess so. But if she really wanted to look after me she wouldn't have gone away."

Fraser sucked in a breath and held it. A wrong word now could turn something promising completely on it's head and they'd end up with nothing more than a distraught child. "Someone took her away, didn't they?"

"She didn't want to go."

"Sorry?"

"When he came to take her away. She didn't want to go." Fraser caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Jill and Ray, standing in the doorway of the cabin. How long they'd been there, he didn't know. "She kept saying no, but she went anyway."

"Who was he?"

"I heard my mummy shouting. And there was a man in her room - a really big man. He saw me and then I don't remember anything else..." A tear ran down her cheek, but when Fraser reached out to wipe it away, she flinched back.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Alice. We just need you to try to remember about the man. So he can't take anyone else's mummy away."

Wiping a hand across her nose and cheek, she closed her eyes and was for a moment, the picture of concentration. Then, she opened her eyes and looked up at Fraser. Her eyes were wet with tears, frustration, anger...it was clear to him that she simply _couldn't_ remember. He didn't leave her to suffer. He reached out and enfolded her in his arms. Dief trotted over and licked her hand.

"We'll always be here for you." He whispered. "You've no need to be scared any more."

After a few moments her sobs subsided. Fraser pulled back and focused on her, his mouth spreading into a smile. "Do you know how to play Twister?"

"Yes."

"Would you like a game?"

"Yes."

"OK. Go get it set up." He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and she stood and ran into the cabin. He watched her go, then wiped away a tear that was threatening to spill from his own eye.In some way, he empathised with her, having lost his own mother at around the same age. But that hadn't been anywhere near as horrific, and he'd had some time to prepare. Picking up the guitar, and replacing it in the jeep, he headed over to Jill and Ray. He was about to speak when Jill cut in.

"Well, I don't know what you did, but it worked."

"I made her cry. I didn't mean to ups..."

Jill shook her head defiantly, and raised a hand to silence him. "You've made a breakthrough. It's the first time she's cried since the murder."

A stunned silence ensued. Then Ray, sharp as ever, broke the moment. "It was probably your singing."

"Well, thank you kindly, Ray. You heard that?"

"For my sins."

Fraser rolled his eyes. "Come on. I've promised Alice a game of Twister."

Ray's eyebrows shot to the top of his balding head. "You, play Twister?"

"Yes, Ray. Although I had hoped to be more in charge of the, erm..."

"The board thing with the spinny thing on it?"

"For want of a better phrase."

Ray laughed and headed for the cabin. "No way, Fraser. You want to play Twister, you're going to _play_ Twister. No excuses, man."

Fraser followed a chortling Ray through the door. What _had_ he talked himself into?

_**OoooO**_

"OK...now for what I'm sure is going to be the last, decisive spin in this Twister tournament..." Jill turned to Alice. "I bet you an ice cream that Fraser goes down first."

Ray, who at that point was spread almost totally across the Twister mat, his arms crossed one way and his legs the other, groaned. "Will you please get on with it?**" **He decided that while he was issuing threatening demands, he'd direct one towards Fraser as well. Fraser was similarly spread across the mat, but he was facing the ceiling with two hands on the outer, red row of the mat and his feet crossed in what seemed to all of them to be a terribly painful position. His face, though, was close to Ray's, and it was that which he was not particularly happy about. "And will you please stop breathing in my face?"

"I'm sorry, Ray." Fraser tipped his head backwards to look at an upside down Jill. "Ray does have a point, Jill. If you would please stop stalling, it would be very much appreciated." There was a scary moment when it seemed like the spin may not be needed, as Fraser's hand suddenly slipped. Catching himself in time, he manoeuvred his hand back onto the red circle. Had he have gone, it would have been a potentially painful experience for both him and Ray.

Jill held a hand up in acquiescence, and Alice giggled. "Alright, boys. Here we go." She rubbed her hands together in apparent glee, then activated the spinner.

Around it span, over and over, and then it began to slow. And then, it finally stopped and settled, decisively, over left foot blue.

"And here it is...left fo..."

"Acchooo!"

Then...

"Oh, Benny, that is _disgusting!_"

Ray raised his arm to wipe some errant spray from his face. And this one action sent him finally crashing towards earth. Fraser, finding that it was physically impossible to get up from the particular position he found himself in, had no choice but to make an emergency crash landing on Ray's back. He jumped up, apologised profusely, and offered Ray a hand up, from where he was lying face down on the floor, muttering something incomprehensible, and more than likely unrepeatable, into the plastic mat.

Ray turned his head to look up at Fraser with a sideways glare. "Don't touch me, Fraser." He heaved himself up. Fraser raised both hands and backed off. He looked at Jill and finally cracked a smile. "Guess that makes me the victor by default."

"With the prize being the possibility of ending up with the flu in about, ooh, a week? Nice." Jill stole a glance at her watch. Turning her attention to Alice, she said "It's about time we were going home. Ben - can you get her coat?"

"Of course."

"I'll wait out by the jeep. Ray?" She made a none to subtle sideways gesture with her head. It was obvious she wanted to speak to him alone. She said nothing more until they were outside.

"Thanks, Ray." was her opening gambit.

"For what?"

"I haven't had so much fun for ages. Today's been worthwhile for so many reasons."

"Yeah. You think you're going to get a description out of her now?"

Jill shrugged. "Maybe. I hope so. We'll let the psychologists have another crack."

A simple nod from Ray. "So, uh, will we be seeing you again?"

"If you're interested in following through on this case..."

"Well, I know Benny is. And...I guess I am too. We're a bit too involved to back away."

"That's what I thought. We'll be bringing in the two main suspects tomorrow. And we'd appreciate your help. One is quoted as being extremely violent, especially once he's downed a bottle of bourbon or two."

"You know I have no arrest authority here."

"No, but Ben does."

"Yeah. 'Course. I bet he can even fire a gun up here, huh?"

"Yes well, he can but he won't. He never has. Well, no he _has_, but he's never actually _wounded_ anyone."

"I thought he was a sharp shooter?"

"Yeah, he is, but he generally finds some other way of putting them out of action. Like blowing tyres out, shooting guns out of their hands...it's quite a skill. You know...'bring him in alive' may not be our motto, but it's still something that Ben lives by." She sighed, almost regretfully, then looked back at Ray. "Wish I could say the same thing."

"Yeah. Me too."

So, um, yeah. I'll see you both tomorrow." She looked down and fished her keys out of her pocket. When she looked up, Ray had stepped forward, closer to her. Their eyes locked together.

"I'm looking forward to it."

It took an intense effort on Jill's part to look away. As she did, Ray felt an almost inexplicable sense of loss. Had he been wrong, about her feelings towards him? Maybe she was imagining that she felt things that he simply wanted - needed - her to feel?

It wasn't a question that he wanted to wait until tomorrow to know the answer to. So he leant down and gave her an almost clumsy peck on the cheek, feeling just as he did when he had first stolen a kiss from Anna DeLuci, back in sixth grade, on the porch swing outside her father's house.

Jill's eyes flitted to the side. "Ray..."

"Yeah?"

"You shouldn't have done that."

_Oh god_, he thought, _it is true_. Once again, he had been seeing things that weren't truly there.

He backed off a step. "Yeah...sorry, I...just...sorry."

He looked so heartbroken that Jill decided to put him out of his misery. A slow smile crept across her face. "It's not that I didn't want you to kiss me, Ray."

A slight spark of hope. "Then, why...?"

"Well, with Fraser sneezing on you like that - you could well be contagious."

Ray was so relieved he laughed out loud. Jill stepped forward, and closed the gap between them. "But what the hell, I could use some time off work." With that, her eyes fell shut and she tipped her face up to meet his. And then she felt the warm softness of his lips on hers. His arms slid around her back and he pulled her close, enveloping her in warmth that banished the cold winds around them. Just as she was becoming lost, almost hypnotised by his touch, the spell was broken.

Alice's reaction was typical of most children her age to the concept of adults kissing. Her face had creased up in disgust, and she simply said:

"Euuughhhh!"

Jill snorted back a laugh, and Ray's face cracked into a grin. "You caught us." He turned his head to face Fraser, his arm still around Jill. "I guess this means I get grounded, huh?" Jill nestled her head in Ray's chest.

Fraser didn't reply, but Alice was adamant to know why she had been lied to. "I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend?"

"I know. And I was telling the truth."

"Then why were you kissing him?"

Jill released herself from Ray's embrace and scooched down next to her. "When you asked, he wasn't my boyfriend. But..." a glance back at Ray, "...things change." Then she stood, and patted her pockets. "We have to get going. I still have to buy you that ice cream." A look of increasing concern crossed her face. "Where's my keys?"

All three of them ducked their line of sight to the snow covered ground. It was Ray who found them, about a foot from where he was standing.

"Here y'go."

"Thanks Ray. I must have dropped them. So, I'll see you tomorrow, guys. And thanks again...for _everything_ you've done."

She bundled Alice into the back of the jeep. Determined not to be left out, Dief padded out of the cabin, and jumped up at Alice's window to bark a goodbye. She got in herself, waved, then gunned the engine and drove off towards the disappearing sun.

Fraser expelled some air from between his cheeks. "So - what was all that about?"

"I would have thought it was obvious, Benny. Even to you."

"What was obvious?"

"The intense chemistry between man and woman. The knowledge after only a short period of time that you are destined to share your futures together. The sharing of that knowledge with a kiss. Never thought I'd ever end up kissing a Mountie though..."

"Ray..."

"I mean, I thought this trip was going to be so completely dull, but jeez..."

"Ray!"

"What?"

"You're rambling."

"Am I? Sorry." He gazed off into the distance, although the jeep was long since out of view. "You're sure it's over between you?"

"I'm sure. Although I don't believe it would change things if it wasn't."

"I'm just saying that if you still had feelings for her, then, y'know, I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt you or anything..."

"It's over, Ray." Ray knew Fraser's tone well enough to know that he was telling the god's honest truth. "And, actually, Ray, that's _not_ what I was asking."

Ray shot him a look. "Then what _were_ you asking?"

"She mentioned seeing us tomorrow...?"

"Oh, yeah, She wants us to help bring one of the suspects in. And I volunteered our services. That is if you're up to it."

"I will be, Ray." With that Fraser called to Dief and disappeared back into the light coming through the cabin door. Ray had known that would be Fraser's response. Fraser would go out and see justice was done at any time. Whether he was up to it or not. And as for him, well, if it meant seeing Jill again...

**OoooO**

Fraser leant his head against the coolness of the jeep window as Jill and Ray conversed like old friends in the front seats. Dief was nestled up against his jeaned leg, snoring quietly, occasionally whimpering, in a land of his own. The drive to the small town where their main suspect - James Docherty - had been located was a long one, a little over two hours. They had been picked up near sunrise, and their destination was still a good forty minutes or so away.

He'd been feeling a little better the night before, but for some reason he seemed to have suffered a setback in the recovery stakes. His fever had returned, and his eyes streamed. His nose was so totally blocked that he was forced to breathe, somewhat noisily through his mouth. And the cough - well, if he entered a competition for impersonating a sea-lion, he'd be quids in.

Still, he couldn't tell Ray. Ray, after all this time, still held Fraser in his regard as being almost invincible, never letting anything - a gunshot wound, a stabbing - get in his way. And, yes, he supposed, that was true. But this...for someone who was very rarely ill, this had hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks.

A tickle in his throat caused him to cough, and Ray's head whipped round. "You sure you're up to this?"

A wan smile. Fraser straightened up in his seat, instantly missing the coolness against his forehead. "Yes, Ray." He absently stroked Dief's head and took a deep breath. He had to rail against this. He couldn't possibly let a cold get him down. And wallowing in self pity definitely wasn't going to help his recuperation.

He had a job to do.

Justice had to be done.

Docherty had to be arrested, brought in...and...

What was it again?

Fraser's consciousness tried to clear a path through the fog in his brain to retrieve the words he was looking for. It stumbled around a bit, occasionally heading off in the wrong direction, before setting off determinedly in what it thought was definitely the right direction before looking around in despair and sitting down on the ground, giving up.

Fraser's eyes fell shut, his head flopped to his chest, and he was off in a fevered dream world.

OoooO

A sneeze finally shook him awake. Jill glanced up into the rear-view mirror. "Welcome back."

Fraser blinked and glanced at his watch. He'd been out for just over thirty minutes. Dief was now also awake, and was licking his right ear. "Where are we?"

"Nearly there. Are you feeling better for your sleep?"

"A little."

Jill's tone clearly indicated she didn't entirely believe him. "You don't have to pretend with me, Ben."

"I assure you, I'm not."

"OK." As they entered a township, Jill indicated right and they drew up outside of a small house on a rundown street. The only other vehicle on the street was a brown Taurus, and as Jill pulled up two men got out. One, the taller, with a harsh blond crew-cut, leant in the window.

"He's is there. Finally rolled in about five this morning."

The second, wearing a red baseball cap, parked his chin on his partners shoulder in an effort to be seen. "With a bit of luck he's out, but when he came back he was still drinking."

Jill nodded soberly. Then she made the introductions. "Steve Jackson, Matthew Lucas - this is Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago PD..." she gestured to Ray, who nodded and raised a hand, "...and this..." she said, gesturing into the back seat "...is Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP." After an impromptu protest from the other inhabitant of the back seat, she added "And his wolf, Diefenbaker. They'll be helping us out. That is - if you'll get out of the way so I can _get_ out."

"Oops, sorry." The two men backed off as the quartet disembarked. Lucas, the shorter, capped member of the two greeted Fraser with a smile. "Robert Fraser's son, am I right?"

"Yes, you are. Did you know him?"

"I worked under him for a while. He was a great man." He turned his attention to Ray. "So you're a Chicago cop, huh? Look - we appreciate any help, but leave the arresting to us, OK? And you'd better not have a gun on you. I don't want you to end up in jail too, right pal?"

Ray simply nodded. "So what's the plan? Knock on his door and ask if he'll kindly accompany us to the local law enforcement establishment for a nice chat about murder over a light brunch?"

Jackson, who overheard him, regarded him with a frown. "No - I was thinking more along the lines of kicking the door down."

Ray grinned. "I like those lines."

"OK. Jill is going to stay out here, so she can radio if we need backup. No offence to you Jill, but this guy very big and very mean." Jill simply shrugged. "You two take the back..." he pointed to an almost rotted wooden gate, "and we'll take the front. We'll head in first. As soon as you hear the door go down, I want you two to follow on. And Fraser..." He looked to Jill, who withdrew her Sig Sauer from her holster, which he took, and in turn passed on to Fraser. "If you need to use this..."

Fraser nodded sombrely and checked the barrel. Ray suddenly began to empathise with how Fraser must feel in Chicago, an invaluable part of the team in some ways, but in others totally impotent.

"But like I say," Lucas chipped in, "In all likelihood he's out like a light. Then we just sit and wait. But right now there's no real reason to wait any longer."

"Good luck, guys." Jill smiled briefly at Lucas and Jackson, but her gaze lingered on Ray and Fraser. "Don't go getting hurt." And then she reached out and touched Ray's hand.

Ray and Fraser moved first, moving quickly but stealthily to the back of the house. There was a ramshackle porch, and Fraser quietly slid open the door. Then, in true law enforcer style, they pressed their backs up to the wall on each side of the door, Fraser on the left, Ray on the right, but in a change to the usual picture, this time it was Fraser with the gun clasped between his hands, ready to move, and if necessary, fire.

They held a collective breath until they heard it, the first crash from the front of the house. Ray pivoted round, raised his right foot and kicked. The door, such as it was, fell to the ground. He ducked back, allowing Fraser to move in and cover him. The kitchen, which they had emerged into, was empty. But then they heard shouts. Lucas and Jackson identifying themselves. A smash of glass. A yell of pain.

Jackson.

Fraser stepped slowly through the door that lead to the hallway. To the left was a flight of stairs, to the right the entrance to the living room. It was from there that the noise was coming.

The door was half open, and looking in, Fraser could see that Jackson was on the ground, his hands on his face, blood seeping through his fingers. He whispered to Ray. "Jackson's down."

Another yell. It wasn't Lucas. It must be Docherty. Then the sound of flesh hitting flesh - and bone - and the next thing they saw was Lucas almost flying across the room and landing with a crash against the wall.

Ray glanced warily at Fraser. "I guess that means Lucas is down too, huh? How big is this guy, anyway?"

"Only one way to find out."

He pushed the door open warily with his booted foot. Ray moved in behind him. This guy _was_ big. At least six four, and over two hundred pounds.

In a voice overflowing with authority, Fraser introduced himself. "Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You are under arrest."

Docherty sighed as if another pesky insect had just decided to wander into his bath. He stepped towards Fraser. "Remain where you are." The briefest glance over his shoulder. "Lucas - give Ray your handcuffs."

Ray, his voice small. "I'm not 'cuffing this guy." But he took the handcuffs Lucas offered.

Docherty took another step forward. Ray winced, but Fraser had the advantage of not being able to smell his alcohol ridden breath. "You are under arrest for suspicion of murder. You have the right to...atishhhoooo!" A sneaky sneeze crept up on him before he had a chance to act. Docherty laughed.

"I have the right to sneeze? Well, thanks guy. But I kind of already knew that." His voice was distinctly slurred, this guy was almost completely inebriated.

The sneeze had started Fraser's eyes streaming again, and he was looking at his quarry through a mask of tears. He had been ready to fire, should Docherty continue his advance, but he couldn't risk it now. Instead of just winging him, he could very easily miscalculate and seriously, or fatally wound him. And at this point, he was only a suspect. He could be innocent. Fraser couldn't risk that.

So Docherty advanced once more.

"Benny!" Ray's voice urged from right behind him. "Shoot the guy!"

Fraser released the gun with one hand and wiped his eyes clear. He had to do something, and his eyes darted around the room for a distraction.

And they settled on a bottle of whisky on the coffee table. Docherty caught the look.

Fraser aimed the gun, cracked back the safety, and fired.

It was a direct hit. The bottle exploded, and the thick golden liquid that sprayed out ended up over the table, the walls, and the carpet.

Immediately more concerned for his liquor than his imminent arrest, Docherty took in the scene.

And then he turned back to face Fraser.

"I don't think that was a very good idea." Ray cut in. Docherty resumed his attack on Fraser. His Mountie training suddenly clicked in, and even through an alcoholic haze, he could see that Fraser's hand was shaking.

This guy is _sick_, he thought. Was this the best they could send to bring him in?

He used that knowledge to his advantage, and his hand whipped out, easily pulling the gun from Fraser's grasp. Then, with a simple shove, he pushed Fraser up against the wall, where, unable to resist, he simply slid down to the threadbare carpet.

Now it was down to Ray. In a room full of injured and semi-conscious Mounties, he was the only one left standing. And he didn't have a gun. Docherty now did.

Instinctively, he decided to protect his friend. He moved round and stood in front of Fraser, putting a wall of flesh between the Neanderthal.

He couldn't shoot, and he couldn't arrest him.

But he had an idea. It may not work. In fact it probably wouldn't.

Ironically it had been Docherty himself that had given him the idea. He'd used Fraser's weakness against him.

And Docherty himself had a weakness.

His weakness was that he'd definitely fail the straight line test.

As Docherty weaved towards him, Ray sucked in a breath and held it. When Docherty was within six inches of him, he raised his hand.

His reactions slowed, it took Docherty just a little too long to figure out what was happening.

And during those valuable seconds, Ray placed his hand on Docherty's face, and pushed.

He pushed him over his centre of gravity, from which, inevitably, he could not recover.

The giant crashed to the ground, smacking his head on the coffee table during the descent, and ended up lying in a pool of his own whisky.

Fortunately completely unconscious.

Ray whipped round to Fraser, who was making his careful way back up the wall. "You alright?"

"Yes. Thank you kindly, Ray."

Lucas and Jackson were by now stirring, and looked at the prone figure. "How long d'you reckon he'll be out?"

Fraser shrugged. "Hard to tell. Are you two alright?"

Reassuring nods. Jackson snorted. "We make quite a team, don't we?"

Fraser's reply was a loud sneeze. "I'm sure at some point in time we will look back at this event with amusement."

Ray smirked. "I'm finding it quite amusing now. So...what are we going to do about this guy here?"

"We'll have to get him taken into hospital to get checked over. Can't risk there being anything really wrong with him."

"Sure."

"And I think us three intrepid Mounties better get checked out too. I think Fraser there could use some antibiotics."

"That would be much appreciated." Fraser admitted.

Ray gestured to the front door. "I'll go tell Jill."

With no affirmative or negative response, he made to leave. Then Jackson spoke up.

"Vecchio?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Ray grinned. "No problem." And with that he left. No more than ten seconds later there was a loud crash. The three moved out into the hallway. Ray was lying on the ground, face down, his nose and his pride badly dented.

He looked up at the questioning faces. "This guy better be guilty. Else this little escapade can be officially stamped as complete disaster."

**OoooO**

One hefty dose of antibiotics, eight stitches, and two Band-Aids later, the team arrived back at the station house, with a slightly more sober and acquiescent Docherty in tow.

Jill held open the door for the walking wounded, who, after depositing Docherty in the lock up, congregated in the squad room to discuss further tactics.

Fraser, after his recent medicinal therapy, was now feeling back up to par - if not a little above par. One of his legs was twitching in eager anticipation - something which did not go unnoticed by Ray but did however remain unmentioned.

Jackson, wincing and rubbing the bandage on his forehead, decided to elect himself in charge and split the team into two. Jill, Fraser, and Ray would interview Docherty, while they would talk to Davies, their other suspect, who had been brought in without incident an hour earlier. Unable to find any fault with the suggestion, they shrugged in unison.

Since Docherty had yet to be processed, Lucas and Jackson disappeared into an interrogation room, and the remaining three deposited themselves around Jill's desk. She slid a manila file over to Ray. "Docherty's file. From what I've read - he's actually kind of a nice guy. He graduated with honours from the Academy - he was on his way up. Just seems like he isn't the type of guy who can take that kind of pressure without a little help from certain chemical substances."

"I know all about that." Ray opened the file, and searched out the details of his discharge. "I guess he must have been under the influence when he smacked his wife about, huh?"

"Yeah. He was completely tanked when he was arrested. When he sobered up, he couldn't remember a thing, but his wife is one of those women who won't stand for any kind of violence. Sort of a 'one strike and you're out' policy." She leant back in her chair and put her booted feet up on the desk. "And she'd had enough of his drinking even before that."

Ray's eyes flicked up from the file to Fraser, who was staring at the ceiling. Feeling it was probably beneficial to say nothing, he reverted his attention to Jill. "So he was discharged after the arrest?"

"Yeah. When he found out what he'd done, though, he decided to quit anyway. He realised that he'd brought shame onto the force and it just happened to work out that he was pushed before he had a chance to jump."

"Doesn't really sound like he's our guy, though."

"Don't get me wrong Ray - this guy is capable of anything when he's drunk. Look what he did to the four of you." Ray shifted a bit in his seat. Maybe he shouldn't have made it seem to Jill as if he had been injured in the line of duty, as opposed to tumbling embarrassingly over a prostrate door.

Ray closed the file and threw it back down on the desk. "Yeah...guess so. So - you sure it's alright I sit in on the interrogation?"

"I can't see why not. You've been of such a help so far, it would be unfair for me to..." Jill's attention was distracted, and then lost. Fortunately for her, so had Ray's. Both of them had been distracted by Fraser's latest antics. Having finished looking at whatever he had been looking at on the ceiling, he had now shifted his swivel chair further away from the desk and was spinning, albeit slowly, around in circles. After taking in the spectacle for a moment, Jill returned her attention to Ray. "Is he alright?"

Ray shook his head. "I think he's experiencing side effects from the antibiotics. It actually looks to me as if, your friend and mine, Constable Benton Fraser is, astoundingly enough...as high as the proverbial kite."

"High? As in stoned?"

"As in chemically intoxicated." He coughed back a laugh, then called over to Fraser. "Hey, Benny?" Fraser slowed the chair to a halt. When it stopped his back was facing them, and, deciding it was too much effort to turn the extra 180 degrees around, he simply bent backwards over the back of the chair. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine, Ray." And with that he resumed spinning, but a little faster than before.

"Well.." Ray hiked his eyebrows in Jill's direction. "At least we haven't _completely_ lost him."

Jill returned his smile, but then it faded and she leant in closer to Ray. "He can't conduct the interview, Ray. Not like that."

Ray saw her point. His eyes flicked back to Fraser. "Well, with Docherty still slightly drunk, and Benny stoned - maybe they'll be on the same wavelength. It might be an advantage."

"How long do you think it'll take him to come down?"

"Impossible to tell. I don't know what they gave him. And pharmaceuticals were never an abiding interest of mine."

"The problem is Ray, that even though you are a law enforcer, and you are involved in the case - it's a policy here that two members of the RCMP have to be present in any interrogation."

"And there's no-one else around?"

"No-one that's currently available. Under the law, we can only hold Docherty for 24 hours. We need to be able to talk to him for the maximum amount of time possible. I can't wait for someone else to get here, and we can't spend all day waiting for Fraser to come back off the cloud he's currently perched on."

Ray clicked his tongue. It was a quandary, and one which even in his wildest dreams he could never have envisaged. He couldn't even really believe that he was having this conversation. But slowly, a solution hit him.

"You said that two Mounties have to be present, right?"

"Yeah. It's regulation. So one can back another up...it must be the same in the States."

"Yeah - course it is. But I was thinking...it's not necessary for both of them to actually _conduct_ the interrogation. If one just sat back, and didn't say anything...well, it would still count wouldn't it?"

Jill pondered this for a second. "I suppose so. What are you suggesting?"

"I'm saying that Fraser can be present at the interrogation. Well maybe not _present_ - but you know what I mean. _Physically_ present."

"How can we manage that?"

"Just sit him in the corner. I know in his state he might be a tad unpredictable, but from what I've seen of people in his kind of...mental state...if you give them something to distract their attention, it can hold their fascination for hours - long enough for them to begin re-emerging into the land of the sane people, at least. We can pass it off as an endearing quirk."

"I don't know..."

"Look - if you think it's wrong, OK - I thought that maybe you weren't as true blue as Benny." He glanced at Jill and pasted on his best downhearted expression.

There was a moments silence, as Jill mulled over the finer points of Ray's plan. Ray's eyebrows nudged up millimetre by millimetre as he tried, successfully, at least to Jill, to look more endearing. Then, decisively, she scooped up the file. "OK. We'll do it. But if he starts doing anything, _anything_, that might give it away - we call it quits, alright?"

"OK." Ray punched the air in a mini victory salute. "So you're not as true blue as Benny, then?"

"No...I guess I'm slightly more turquoise." She pushed back her chair, and stood. "Let's get set up."

Ray slapped his palm onto the desk and similarly stood. "But what are we going to use to distract Benny?"

Jill smiled and nodded over Ray's shoulder. "I think he's already found it." Ray spun around. Fraser had, from somewhere, found a hand-made wooden yo-yo. Displaying remarkable skill, the wooden toy was spinning up and down, and up and down the string. And it was certainly holding Fraser's attention. "Guess that's as good as anything." Ray walked over to Fraser's chair, and deciding it was best not to interrupt, he simply pushed the wheeled chair and it's occupant in the direction in which Jill was heading.

And all the way he was convinced that he was really still back at the cabin tucked up in his sleeping bag, and that this scenario was actually all a dream. If not, it was really shaping up to be one of those days...

OoooO

It took fifteen more minutes for Docherty to complete being processed. He was then brought into the interview room by a constable, who quietly departed. Jill beckoned Docherty into a chair. He made to move, but caught a glimpse of Fraser as he went. True to Ray's statement, the yo-yo was keeping his attention intently fixed, and thankfully keeping him quiet.

"Is he OK?" He asked, as he sat.

"Yeah.." Ray cut in before Jill had a chance to answer. "It's kind of a meditative thing with him. He's been through a bit of a bad patch."

Jill slid a tape into the tape machine and switched it to record. "Interview with James MatthewDocherty, March 18th 1997, commencing 12:15pm. In attendance, Sergeant Gillian Dunstan, Constable Benton Fraser, and Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department."

Docherty's right eyebrow did a little leap of surprise. "Chicago PD?"

"Yes. Chicago PD."

"Mind if I ask what you're doing here?"

Ray looked to Jill. "How much tape have you got?" Jill smiled. Ray, realising that Docherty deserved at least some form of explanation, acquiesced. "I'm Fraser's partner."

"Fraser's partner? But isn't he a Mountie?"

"Indeed he is."

"Then how can you be his partner?"

"It's purely unofficial."

"Oh." Docherty shrugged. "So you live here?"

"No. In Chicago. As does Fraser. He's a liaison officer."

"Oh. Guess that pretty well clears that up." He drummed his fingers on the table, then, looking up, said: "Are you sure I'm not still drunk?"

Jill butted in, deciding it was time to get down to business. "James - can I call you James?"

"Jim - please."

"Jim. You have been read your Miranda rights, do you understand the charge made against you?"

"Yeah."

"So what have you got to say?"

"Well..." He looked down at his fingers, and then back up at Jill. "I hope I didn't do it."

"You _hope_ you didn't do it? What do you mean by that?"

"Look - when I get drunk, it's like I black out. I have no control over my actions. If I did then I sure as hell wouldn't keep on drinking. And I've tried to stop...it's just, well, there's to much stuff to go into right now, but what it all boils down to is, I'm an addict, pure and simple. I know what it does to me, but I just can't stop." He looked to Jill, then to Ray. "I hope to God I didn't do it. I'd never kill anyone. Much less try to kill a little girl."

"So can you account for your whereabouts on the night in question?"

"I was in the area of the crime scene. I know that. I was at a club - got there about ten pm. But I don't know anything else past that till I woke up the next morning."

Ray: "Where did you wake up?"

"At home. Guess I must have made it back on autopilot."

Jill: "The name of the club?"

"NightLites."

"I know the place. Anyone in particular see you there?"

"I guess the barman. After that all the faces merged into one drinking dancing amorphous blob."

"We'll have to check that out."

"Sure."

Jill glanced at her watch. "Interview terminated12:25pm." She clicked off the tape. "We'll pay the bartender a visit. We'll bring you back in in a few hours, when we've got the information we need. Thank you for your co-operation so far." Jill stood, removed her handcuffs and cuffed Docherty to lead him away. "Look - Jim. We hope you weren't involved as much as you do. But if you were - you could claim diminished responsibility. They'd go lighter on you."

Jim replied with a decisive shake of the head. "No. If I did it - I want to be punished to the full extent of the law." He looked round to all three of the assembled law enforcers. "Promise me that you'll make sure they never let me out again."

OoooO

Ray sighed harshly as he helped Jill with her coat."You know something? he said, after a moment's contemplation "I actually feel really sorry for him."

"Yeah." Jill retrieved her Stetson from the hat stand. "Yeah - me too. Most suspects we have in, it's either they did do it and deny it or they didn't do it, and well...deny it. It's not a common occurrence to hear an 'I don't know.' I hope this bartender has some answers." She pulled her coat sleeve back over her wrist, and glanced at her watch. "I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Will you and Ben be OK while I'm gone?"

Ray looked over to the newly rewheeled into position Fraser, who seemed to now be losing interest in his wooden toy. "I think so." He almost imperceptibly moved forward, but the new proximity caused Jill's body to tingle. Ray looked down into her eyes, his usual twinkle replaced by a serious intensity. "But I'll miss you."

Jill blushed, then touched Ray's arm. "Hey - cut that out." But she returned the look of intensity. Without removing her gaze from direct contact with Ray's, she continued "Alice's psychologist may be calling. If there's a further breakthrough."

"OK. I'll take a message."

"Do you - um, want to see me out?"

"Sure." Together they stepped out into the crisp cool day. But, one episode of electricity producing, knee buckling lip contact later,Jill pulled away. "Ray, look...maybe we really shouldn't be doing this."

Ray's face visibly fell. "Jill - I feel with you like I've never felt before."

"Me too." She laid a hand on his chest. "But that's the problem. We live 600 miles apart. It can never work."

"Can't we just enjoy what we have now?"

"Don't you think that that will just make it all the more difficult in the end?"

"Maybe. But - I can't - I can't be around you for the next twelve days and not be able to...touch you. Kiss you." Ray moved his head down, intending to cut of the conversation with a kiss. But once more he was pushed away.

"We can't avoid this, Ray."

"I _know_..."His words came out harsher than intended and he apologised with a smile. "I know. But we don't have to talk about it right now."

"And we can't keep putting it off. Else we'll keep doing it, and before we know it it will be next week and we're going to end up two seriously broken hearted people. I don't want to hurt that much - and I don't want you to hurt that much either."

Ray, who had a fatal flaw of snapping when faced with emotional issues of any kind, fell victim to this once more. "So you're dumping me, is that it?

Jill jerked back, astonished at the ferocity in his tone. "No...no, Ray. I'm just saying maybe we should get out of the pool before we reach the deep end."

Ray swallowed harshly, his eyes beginning to burn with tears he swore to himself he wouldn't shed. "Well, I'm already in the deep end. Maybe you're wading about in the shallow end with water wings on, but I'm sorry...I'm in so deep I'm in over my head." He reached out, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I can't believe that I'm saying this - but I love you. And I don't say that to just anyone, Jill."

"I believe you. But..."

He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand in his. "Come a bit further in, Jill. The water's warm."

A glance away, then a look back. "I'd have to go home..."

"Why?"

"I need my snorkel."

Ray snorted with laughter, and once more pulled her close. He knew she had a point. But he couldn't help his feelings, and he wanted to spend every possible moment with her. It was going to work out, he knew. Exactly how, he wasn't yet sure, but it would work. It _had_ to.

OoooO

As Fraser had once commented, things moved at their own pace in small places. And when those small places were in Canada - well - this case so far had seemed to involve a little more sitting around and waiting than he was used to. But, he supposed, when it took over an hour just to get to a town to bring in a suspect, it couldn't be helped. Resigned once more to waiting until Jill returned with the latest update, he sank into the chair beside Jill's desk - in fact Jill's chair, and aimlessly flipped through the pile of files that she had left to be sorted back into their original location.

Fraser looked up at him, his yo-yo forgotten. He wasn't really sure what had happened in the immediate past, but he was aware of Jill's absence. "Where did Jill go, Ray?"

Ray's eyes flicked up. "To talk to the bartender. At the club. To see if he can give Docherty an alibi."

Fraser simply shrugged. "Ah." Try as he may, the last couple of hours were a mist. Knowing that pressing further would only serve to antagonise Ray, he lapsed back into silence.

Ray, as ever, found the silence unnerving and fought to fill it. "So you're back with us then?"

"I haven't been anywhere, Ray."

The little light above Ray's exasperation control began to flash amber. "I know you haven't _been_ anywhere, Benny. I'm just saying that you're back _with _us."

One of Fraser's own warning lights began to flicker, but as usual he ignored it. "You know Ray, sometimes you seem to have difficulty in making yourself clear."

Ray grabbed the nearest file. He opened it right in front of his face, and blocked Fraser from his view. "Yeah - but only to you." he muttered from his new hiding place.

"What was that, Ray?"

Ray dropped the file back down onto the desk with a lot more care than he had intended, "I said 'I suppose that's true.'" He really wasn't in the mood for the impending argument. He was in love. A smile spread across his face. "Forget I said anything."

Another shrug. Ray picked up another file. A photograph slipped out and slid to the floor. Groaning over-dramatically, Ray bent down and retrieved it from under his chair. The next thing Fraser knew was that Ray was laughing.

"What is it?"

Ray's head popped back up over the edge of the desk. "You'll never guess what I've found." A hand followed, holding said errant photograph, which he slid over to Fraser.

A moment later, Fraser emitted a chuckle of his own. "This was my graduation photograph. I was nineteen." He passed it back to Ray.

"Nineteen. Jeez - half a lifetime ago." Ray suddenly squinted and drew the picture closer. "Is it me - or are you actually _smiling_?"

"No..."

"Not your mouth - your eyes. Like there was something going on that was making you laugh."

"Ah - that was Jill. She was pulling faces behind the photographer's back. Yes - that was quite a day, by all accounts."

"For why? Apart from your graduation, I mean."

"Quite apart from that - it was the day I received my first posting, and also the day that Jill and I split up. I think that if Jill hadn't been playing the fool she may have been crying. We were very close."

Ray nodded, then slipped the photograph back into the file from where it had escaped. "Yeah - she's a wonderful woman. How come you've never mentioned her before?"

"I suppose the subject never came up."

"Hmm." Ray settled back into the chair, and picked up Fraser's file. "Is it OK if I read this?" He'd already begun by the time Fraser replied in the affirmative. Ray could, however, sense that he was a little reticent. "Look, if you'd rather I didn't..."

"No, Ray. You go ahead. I...I...need some fresh air. It's a little stuffy." He gestured towards the station house door, then stood and left without a word.

Ray watched him go. Surely there couldn't be anything in the file that Fraser wouldn't want him to read. I mean, this was _Fraser_. It wasn't as if he would have had any disciplinary action or...

He flipped the page.

A form. Headed with the words _Disciplinary Action_ in bold black typescript.

And, to Ray's complete surprise, it wasn't blank.

There were three entries. All the same year. 1987. And all the same month - June.

The first and the second were the same. _Failure to report for duty and to provide acceptable reason for said absence._ Two consecutive days at the beginning of the month. And then - to Ray's complete disbelief, the third.

_Gross Insubordination._

Insubordination? Fraser? The same guy that reported not only to his own superiors, but to Ray's as well?

There were no details of the event itself. A brief passage outlined Fraser's out of character behaviour - and at the end gave a recommendation for psychiatric evaluation.

_...due to the stress of recent events_.

_What_ recent events? Ray certainly didn't intend to leave this playing on his mind. He had thought he had known nearly all there was to know about Fraser - well apart from the guitar playing, the singing and Jill...he pushed his chair back and met up with his friend who was shivering outside.

"So...June 1987."

If Fraser could look sheepish, he was doing it now. "You read that."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I wasn't...myself...for a few days. I got over it. It was forgotten."

"You were disciplined for gross insubordination. What did you do?"

"I disobeyed a superior's command. It almost resulted in the death of a colleague, and myself. It was a stupid mistake which I will always regret."

"And you don't want to go into."

"I'd really rather not."

"But what about this 'stress of recent events' stuff?"

Fraser entire body shook in a shiver that finally forced him indoors. Ray followed. As always, letting it lie just wasn't his thing. When Fraser recognised Ray's insistence, he turned back to his friend.

In a matter of fact way, he recited the reasons like a mantra.

"On 30th May 1987 I was called to testify for the prosecution in a trial for armed robbery. As the arresting officer I was under a strict obligation. With my testimony, they were able to charge the accused with grand theft, a charge which led...which led to the accused being sentenced to nine years in a penitentiary in Alaska."

Now it all began to sink in. Ray nodded slowly as the pieces fell into place. "And the accused was..."

"Victoria Metcalf."

Unable to look his partner in the eye, Fraser turned and retook his seat. Ray walked up behind him. "I know I keep saying this but you did the right thing."

"I know, Ray." Fraser then leant forward and grabbed the yo-yo from the desk where he had left it.

There it is - thought Ray - that wall again. No matter how hard he tried, how high he climbed, he just wasn't going to get over it. He'd just have to wait until Fraser made it through of his own accord.

OoooO

**Transcript of interview with James Matthew Docherty, dated ****23rd May 1997**

**SGD = Sergeant Gillian Dunstan**

**CBF = Constable Benton Fraser**

**DRV = Detective Raymond Vecchio (Chicago PD, present by request)**

**JMD = James Matthew Docherty**

SGD: Recommencing interview with James Matthew Docherty. Same officers in attendance, the time now being...three-oh-five P.M..OK, Jim - I've been to the club_. _And the bartender does recall seeing you there in the night in question. He says that you're there every Wednesday night and that this was no exception.

JMD:So does that mean I'm in the clear?

SGD: I'm afraid not. He also said that you left with a woman at about 11pm. An hour or so before the offence was committed.

JMD: The woman wasn't...the one that was murdered?

SGD: No - she was at home all evening with her daughter.

JMD: So, who was she?

SGD: I was hoping that you could tell us, but evidently that was a little much to hope.

CBF: You have absolutely no recollection of the evening in question?

JMD: No...where have you been? I said that earlier. I was tanked.

CBF: Yes - of course. This woman - could it have been someone that you were already acquainted with?

JMD: Well, since I don't remember anything, that would be a little difficult to say.

DRV: You know, something, Docherty...

JMD: I said call me Jim...

DRV: Oh, sorry - Docherty - I think that you might be using this whole alcohol induced memory lapse thing as a convenient way out of this situation you've found yourself in. You know exactly what happened that night, and what happened that night was that you killed Jacqueline Owen. You attacked her daughter Alice and left her for dead.

CBF: Ray...

JMD: So maybe I did.

DRV: Was that a confession that slipped out then?

JMD: No - I said maybe I did. But where's the proof? And - where's the motive? I had never heard of this woman until the story was in the papers the next day and I had sobered up enough to read it.

CBF: He has a point, Ray.

DRV: Yeah, don't they all.

SGD: The bartender said that the woman was around five six, short cropped blonde hair, brown eyes. Does that sound familiar?

JMD: Well...maybe. From the moments at the club that I can recall...there was this woman. She was a friend of a friend. Up here on holiday for a month. I did find her pretty cute, but nothing ever happened with her.

DRV: So maybe that night you got lucky, huh?

JMD: Sounds like it.

DRV: Yeah, typical - you finally get it on with a beautiful woman and you can't remember anything about it. Was she around the next morning when you woke up?

JMD: No.

CBF: Did you wake up at home, or elsewhere?

JMD: Like I also told you earlier - home. I always seem to end up back at home. Well, apart from the incident with the skip..

DRV: And she wasn't there. She'd left? Had she ever been there?

JMD: Well - I found an earring a couple days later. I assumed something must have happened, but I didn't know when, or with who. Jeez - it's depressing realising that half your life is a complete blackout.

CBF: So, she was a friend of a friend. Did your friend tell you anything about this woman that might help.

JMD: Well - I think her name...it began with an F. Fiona maybe?

SGD: Fiona. But you're not sure.

JMD: Well, there's not many women's names that begin with F, are there?

CBF: Not in common usage, no.

DRV: Well, there's Fay, and um...

CBF: You mentioned that she was up here on holiday, for a month. Would she still be here, or will she have gone home?

JMD: I think she must have gone home. It was two weeks before we even got introduced.

SGD: Do you happen to know where that was?

JMD: If you mean her address, no. She disappeared after a one night stand. She didn't leave me an address so we could be pen pals.

DRV: Yeah - I hate when that happens. But you have an idea...

DRV: She was from the States. That's probably why I said "up here" on holiday.

DRV: So we're looking for a woman, with short blond hair, whose name might or might not begin with 'F' somewhere in the fifty states of my homeland. Care to be a tad more specific? Because I'm thinking it might take a while to track this little lady down.

JMD: That I can do.

DRV: So?

JMD: Coincidentally enough it was Chicago.

CBF: You're sure?

JMD: As sure as I can be.

CBF: And you're sure that you can't remember a surname.

JMD: I don't think I was ever told her surname. Look, why don't you ask my friend..the one who introduced us?

SGD: I'm guessing you know her name?

JMD: Yeah. Mary Ryan.

SGD: You know her phone number?

JMD: Yeah. 555-6738.

SGD: Thank you. You realise we can still hold you without charge for another 12 hours. Hopefully in that time we'll have an answer, one way or another. Ray - I hope you will use your influence with the Chicago PD to track this woman down?

DRV: I'll give Elaine a call.

SGD: Great. Interview terminated at...who's Elaine?

DRV: She's...

SGD: You never mentioned an Elaine.

DRV: She works at the station...civilian aide.

SGD: So you're just friends.

DRV: Yes, Jill. You're not jealous are you?

SGD: Not at all...

CBF: Interview terminated 3:29pm.

OoooO

Fraser and Ray looked on in silence as Jill made he call to Docherty's friend. From her end of the conversation, it seemed like she was happy to co-operate and that she could help them to trace this mysterious Fiona, or Fay, or Florence, as Ray had come up with in a flash of inspiration a few moments previously.

Of course, Ray still harboured a nagging doubt. As he'd told Fraser, if Docherty had been completely blotto - there was always a chance that she had been in a similar state and wouldn't remember what had happened either. Or maybe - given that she had disappeared before Docherty had even stirred - she was ashamed of what had happened and wouldn't want to admit it. There were also chances that it either hadn't been her he had left the club with, and even if it had - it didn't necessarily mean that he had gone home with her. At this point, there were way too many ifs.

The phone replaced, Jill looked up, smiled, and walked over to them brandishing a yellow Post-It. "Well, I've got the address. If you want to call this Elaine - the phone is all yours."

"Why, thank-you." Ray took the proffered note and took Jill's place at the phone. Fraser looked down at Jill and gave her a little lop-sided smile.

"So...tell me, Ben. How did you end up with this guy?"

"It's a very long story." Fraser coughed to shift some errant phlegm from his throat. "I'm not sure my voice could stand the telling."

"Round it down to just the highlights."

"OK. I moved to Chicago after my father died. I assume you heard about that?"

"Of course."

"I had been informed that my father's killer had arrived in Canada on a plane from Chicago. Which meant that the investigation was passed into the hands of the Chicago PD, or more specifically..."

"Ray."

Fraser nodded. "Exactly. And during the course of the investigation, we established..."

"A rapport?"

"More of a bond." Jill glanced up at him, and laughed. "What?"

"It's just that you two are so different. And from what he's told me, you quite frequently annoy the hell out of him."

"That would appear to be the case."

Both Fraser and Jill regarded Ray, who was employing his usual brand of charm to Elaine down the phone line. "Still - you can't be all that different. Since I've had, y'know, close...encounter type things with both of you." She returned her attention back to Fraser, who chose that same moment to look down, into her eyes.

And then, for both of them, it was as if they were eighteen again. Training together, partnered on a survival exercise. When Fraser had first asked Jill out on a date, a real date, they had been in fact tracking caribou. He had been nursing a black eye from a nasty rebounding tree-branch related incident, and she was suffering from heat rash. Things had gotten to a head over the first-aid kit, and Fraser had taken the plunge, metaphorically. He didn't do it for real until the next day when he had slid out of a control down a muddy hill and landed in a deceptively deep pool. In fact, looking back on it, the establishing of their brief but memorable relationship had been about the only good thing to come out of that particular exercise. They'd both failed.

"Ben, I..." She reached out and took his hand. "I've missed you."

Fraser said nothing. His eyes flipped up, briefly, to look at Ray.

"I've missed you for the last nineteen years. And seeing you again..."

"Jill...this can't happen." He untangled his fingers from hers. "Ray has feelings for you. Strong feelings. And I believe you feel the same way."

"What about _your_ feelings?" Jill lowered her voice to a near whisper and led Fraser a few feet further away. "You're so concerned about me and Ray - how do you feel?"

"I don't believe that matters."

"I think that's all that matters. Ben - I'm attracted to Ray. A lot. He's a great guy. He's a great kisser. But you - Ben, we have a history, and I still...feel, something..."

"We're friends. Close friends. What you have with Ray - is different. And I'm sure you wouldn't want to hurt him."

"And nor would you. Is that why you're not telling me how you feel? Because you don't want to hurt Ray? Don't you think he'd understand?"

"You don't know Ray."

"No. I don't. But I know you. And I believe...that I still love you." She had had her head lowered as she had said this, now she looked up and saw Fraser looking up, at something behind her. "Ben?" And then she felt her heart sink as she knew what he was looking at. Turning around slowly, she saw Ray standing, looking at the two of them. How much he'd heard, she didn't know.

"Ray...I..." She reached out to touch him, but he flinched away.

In almost a monotone, Ray simply said: "Elaine will contact someone in the precinct where this woman lives. They'll send someone round. Find out what we need to know."

"Thanks." Jill replied, almost warily.

"Could you arrange for someone to take me back to the cabin, and then to the airport?"

"Ray...you can't _leave_..." Fraser moved himself in between Ray and Jill. All the time, Ray's steady glare had been settled not on Jill, but on his best friend.

"I've nothing to stay here for. Not any more. Unless Jill can tell me differently."

Jill hesitated, fighting for the right thing to say. But the wordless pause lasted a little too long.

"Well, that's all _I_ need to know." Ray spun on his heel, and exited, loudly, stage left.

OoooO

When Fraser set off after Ray, he had expected to see him striding ahead, defiantly. He didn't expect to find him standing directly in front of the station house door, at the top of the small flight of stairs. Which led to him crashing straight into him. Ray simply threw him a particularly nasty glare, and trotted down to the bottom of the steps. Despite his claim that he was going to return to Chicago forthwith, he didn't seem in much of a hurry to actually go anywhere.

Fraser stayed where he was, looking down at his fuming partner, who was trying to control his anger with deep breathing exercises, and as usual, was achieving the opposite and almost hyperventilating.

It was almost an absurd parody of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. Except there were two Romeo's, and Juliet was unhappily sitting inside. Having finally controlled his breathing, Ray wiped some snow from the bottom step and sat, chin in hands.

"I never thought you'd lie to me Benny."

"I didn't lie to you, Ray. Everything I told you was the truth. It was Jill that was..."

"Making all the moves?"

"Yes."

Ray snorted derisively. "Well, I might have guessed it wasn't you." He straightened up, sucked in a deep breath, then placed his hands to his knees. "Maybe it's for the best anyway. I mean - it'd never have worked." He looked round, and up at Fraser, then shifted his position over to the left, a gesture which Fraser correctly interpreted as an invitation to come and share the step.

"I agree it's not the most ideal of situations."

"We don't have the best of luck with women, do we, man?"

A brief pause. A tiny laugh. "No. I suppose we don't."

"It's just - I dunno - how can I keep being with her for the next ten days knowing that she's still in love with you? Who will it be she's thinking of, y'know...whenever?"

"You'll have to ask her. She's an honest woman. And she says what she feels."

"I noticed. I guess it's like what you said, the other day...if it's meant to work out it will - if it's not...there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it."

"But it is possible to take a hand in fate."

Ray blew air loudly out through his nostrils, then looked over his shoulder to the door. "Yeah. But...but what if fate means you to end up with her?"

Fraser stood, and dusted some snow from the back of his jeans. "Then I believe that I would share the feelings that she claims to have for me."

"Well, y'know, Benny - it's easy to confuse love and that other thing."

"What other thing?"

"Y'know, that lust thing. When you see someone and you just know that you have to have them. If you'll excuse my phraseology. I mean, that's how come you've got women crawling all over you. The blue eyes, the uniform, geez, they're lusting over you from all directions. I'm betting...or hoping, I guess, that that's what happened when Jill looked into those baby blues of yours. Hormones surged. A purely psycho, psychic..."

"Physiological?"

"Yeah. A...one of those response. So with me..." Ray finally stood, pulled his jacket close around him and shivered. "It must be something deeper. Because I've got handfuls of hair falling out by the day, a nose the size of...Illinois, and I look awful in my uniform. Which was one reason why I wanted to be a detective."

Fraser paused for a moment as he tried to take in everything Ray had just said so that he could construct a response that wouldn't be accidentally insulting in any way. There was only one safe sentence that came to mind.

"Ray - I believe you're right."

"I'm _always_ right." Ray grinned and gave Fraser a friendly nudge in the ribs.

"Indeed you are."

"Let's get back inside. It feels like the temperatures has dropped a few degrees."

"4.8 degrees Celsius. Or..."

"Or I'm not interested." Ray rubbed his hands together and headed off back up the steps, soon to be followed by Fraser. Jill was waiting inside, playing with the yo-yo.

When she saw them, she dropped the wooden toy and all but leapt out of her seat, sending it scudding across the floor. "Have you - I mean - is everything..."

"We've decided that what you said to Benny was a purely hormone related thing. And what you feel for me is different because I'm...of a lower level of attractiveness to the female species than he is."

"Who says?" A relieved smile crossed Jill's face. "I didn't want to hurt you, I just..."

"It's OK. I just need to know one thing."

"What's that?"

Ray stepped towards Jill and took her in his arms, then kissed her in a way reminiscent of early black and white movies.

After they had both regained their breath - and composure, Ray posed a question. "Who were you thinking of then?"

Her eyes flicked from Ray to Fraser, and back. And then...

"Antonio Banderas."

Ray flinched back, as if he'd been struck. "You've wounded me, woman."

Jill looked at Fraser and raised her eyebrows. "Guys - if we can get back to the matter in hand?" Ray and Fraser simultaneously raised their gloved hands in acquiescence. "The other suspect - Davies? He's got a water tight alibi. We've let him go."

"What alibi?"

"He was in the drunk tank, in a town a hundred miles from here. At almost the precise moment of the murder, he had his head in a pail. The guard very distinctly remembers every sordid detail."

"So unless someone we haven't thought of spontaneously confesses, that just leaves us with Docherty."

"Mmm." Jill leaned over her desk and picked up a padded envelope. "Which gives me an idea. You say that Alice couldn't remember what the killer looked like, but she remember what he said?"

Fraser nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sending her psychologist part of the taped interview from this morning. To see if she reacts to Docherty's voice."

"Are you sure that is a good idea? It may cause her unnecessary distress."

"Weighed up against her mother's killer being allowed to walk free..." She dropped the envelope and sighed. "Look - Fraser - right now it's our best shot, but if we find anything else that means we don't have to do it, then I'll be the first to say we should call it off. But, whichever way, we won't know anything until tomorrow."

"Can you hold him that long? Without charge?"

"I think there's enough evidence against him for us to be granted an extension. That's just what I'm about to do. As for you two...I've arranged for one of the guys to give you a lift back to the cabin. There's really nothing more you can do to help today. And you both look all in."

Fraser and Ray looked at each other like they were seeing each other for the first time. It was true. So much for a relaxing vacation.

"Until tomorrow then." Fraser decided on a swift exit to give Ray and Jill a little time alone. He was nearly at the door, when Jill called after him. "Um - Ben?" As he swivelled to face her, he could see she was holding up a small white paper bag. "Don't forget your antibiotics. And Ben?" she continued as Fraser retrieved his medication. "Follow the directions on the bottle. I don't want Ray to have to get you down from a tree in the morning."

"Thank you kindly, Gillian."

"Oooh - Gillian." She looked to Ray. "That's as close to sarcasm as I've ever heard him get."

Ray watched as Fraser departed, leaving the door slightly ajar. "He doesn't know the meaning of the word. No...I mean it, he doesn't. Does the word sarcasm appear in Canadian dictionaries?"

"Yeah - I should think so. Gullible doesn't though."

"Really? Oh..." Ray picked up a file from the desk and whacked her across the rear. And then he again took her in his arms, and kissed her, with a serious intensity, and this time she wasn't thinking of Mounties, or Spanish film stars...

As Fraser stood and gently shivered, reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief to wipe his running nose, he glanced back into the station house. His two best friends. He should have been happy.

He _was_ happy.

Well, maybe he could kid himself. He was happy for Ray, for sure. He was happy for Jill.

But was he happy for himself?

He couldn't say that he entirely knew.

Still.

It didn't _really_ matter.

Did it?

**OoooO**

As Fraser had once explained - at length - to Ray, each individual person has a tolerance level. A level beneath which you are fine. Going along as normal. But also a level above which you can be driven to distraction, to irrational anger, and thoughts of revenge, menaces and possibly even death and destruction. Ray's tolerance level, he knew, was low to average. A lot of the time he was quite laid back, going along with life. But then there were times, and Fraser had been witness to many, where he had crossed that level, although not by much, and become...what was the word? Tetchy.

His own tolerance level, he knew now, was set higher than your average Joe or Jane Public. Quite significantly higher. There were few things that could push Fraser far enough up to even be within spitting distance of it.

Injustice. Cruelty - especially to children, and animals. Motiveless murders. Murders _with_ a motive. The usual stuff. He disliked things that made other people's lives unhappy, or unpleasant.

But he was rarely troubled by things that made his own life unhappy or unpleasant. That just didn't figure. Wasn't worth troubling himself about.

But now, there was one thing that was pushing him as close to the edge as he had ever been. His breathing was becoming rapid. He could almost hear his own heart beating in his ears. His concentration was all but shot. He was about, in Ray's terms, to lose it big time.

Fighting to control his breathing patterns, he lowered the hammer to the snowy ground. And turned, slowly, to face his tormentor.

"Will you _please_ stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Robert Fraser stopped in his tracks. For the last ten minutes or so he had been pacing around, in little circles, up and down, while Fraser steadfastly refused to acknowledge his presence. Every now and again he would stop, and emit a tut, or a slight chuckle.

"You know very well, Dad." Fraser picked up the hammer once more. "If you have something to say then would you please just come out and say it?" Fraser ran his hand up and down the wooden handle, shocked at how easy it was to contemplate violence towards his own flesh and blood. Well, he supposed, it was easier now he wasn't. Flesh and blood, that was.

Robert gestured with his head towards Fraser's latest project. "Is that supposed to be the gable window?"

"Yes, Dad."

Robert wandered over casually, and ran his eye over the part made frame. "It's wonky."

"I realise that. If you look carefully at the hole from where it came, you will notice that that too is lopsided."

Robert rolled his eyes. "Well, I know that, son. I did build this cabin."

"Then what is the problem?"

"Do you imagine that I would spend precious time deliberately manufacturing a window that was lopsided? No, son. I realised my mistake, and I simply jammed pieces of wood around the frame, to fill in the gaps. It was a shoddy repair, but it stood the test of time. I can't believe you never noticed."

Almost to himself, Fraser muttered "Neither can I."

"What was that, Benton?"

"Nothing, Dad." Fraser looked up and managed to conjure what could just pass for a smile.

"I suppose those pieces came away in the fire. Still, maybe it's best you're replacing it with one that will fit."

"Well, finally, a little credit."

"It's always given where it's due, son." Robert wandered away once more, breathing in the crisp Canadian spring air. "The weather's on the turn."

"The thaw is starting." Fraser took up his saw and began cutting the latest plank, hoping the noise would encourage his father to, well - go away.

"But not before a storm. A late storm. And soon." Fraser heard the seriousness in his father's voice, and looked up to the sky. Yes - there were signs, now he concentrated. Telltale changes in cloud formation. A drop in temperature, and air pressure. "I wouldn't want to be in the remains of a burnt out cabin when it hits."

"We'll be fine, Dad."

"You could always build an igloo - it's tried and tested. It can withstand even the most extreme conditions."

"Yes, well, you try telling that to Ray."

"I would if I could son, I would if I could."

"Again, you're only saying that because you know you can't." Fraser sighed deeply. "But thank you for your concern. I have fared through worse."

"A man can fare through anything. As long as he has determination. Steadfastness. Tenacity..." Robert turned and face his son, who felt a compelling urge to look up at him. "And fortitude."

Fraser swallowed, then looked away, down at the saw, the wood, anything but his father.

Robert simply nodded, then walked away.

OoooO

"Hey, Benny - you OK?"

"I'm fine Ray." Fraser struggled vainly with the childproof cap of this antibiotic bottle. Acquiescing surprising early in his attempts, he passed it over to Ray, who opened it with ease and passed a couple of the small white pills to Fraser, before turning and pouring boiling water from the kettle into their mugs. Fraser slumped into his chair. "A little concerned, perhaps."

Taking his place opposite Fraser, Ray frowned. "What about?"

"Alice. I think Jill's wrong to send that tape."

"So..." A sip of coffee. "You think Docherty is guilty."

"Why would you say that?"

"Look - if it's not Docherty, then the tape isn't going to worry her, is it? The only reason it will distress her is if he is the guy. Personally...I think it's worth a shot."

"I suppose so. I just don't want her to go through any more distress."

"She'll be alright. Kids bounce back at that age. She already witnessed her mother being murdered - it can't get too much worse than that." Another gulp. "You get that window done yet?"

"Almost."

"We should get that Myers guy over. Jill tells me he's great with wood and that kind of stuff."

"Yes, maybe we should do that."

"You should ask Jill next time you see her."

Fraser's ears almost visibly pricked up at that moment, as did Dief's. A slow smile slipped across his face. "Right on cue."

A grin twice the size of Fraser's smile appeared on Ray's face. They left their seats, Fraser taking his coffee with him. Jill's jeep almost skidded to a halt, and she jumped out, looking flushed, as if she had just run rather than driven the six kilometres from the station house to the cabin.

Ray's face creased with concern, and he wrapped a comforting arm around Jill's shoulders. "What's happened?"

Again, seeming like she had just finished a marathon run, Jill all but gasped for breath, sometimes sounding on the verge of tears.

"Two things. One - well, I got a call from the psychologist. She played Alice the tape."

"And?" Fraser sucked in a breath and held it.

"She started screaming. They had to shut the tape off straight away. It took the psychologist, two nurses and her stepfather to even begin to calm her down."

Fraser and Ray simultaneously shook their heads, Fraser sighing loudly. "So I suppose you've charged Docherty?"

"Yes, well, we were going to." A tone of anger had crept into her voice, accompanied by angry tears building up in her eyes. "I don't know how it happened - it shouldn't have happened - I can't believe that I'm even standing here telling you this...but..."

"What?" asked Ray, already guessing at the truth.

"Docherty escaped. Around lunchtime this morning. God, I'm beginning to think that he knew he was guilty all along and all this drink stuff was a cover."

"Do you have any idea as to where he may have gone?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. He had no real ties here...and it's a big country with not many people." Jill took a deep breath, but when she spoke, her voice was still quivering. "There's just one thing I'm really worried about."

"That he's going to try to track down the only witness to his crime?"

"Yes. She's been placed under police protection, but as you know, this guy is so wily...we've put out an APB but with no leads, there's not too much more we can do."

"Do you need our help?"

"It would be much appreciated. I know, well, the cabin..."

Fraser shook his head defiantly. "This is much more important. Come in and wait a moment, while we get ready." He looked down at the still hot, almost untouched coffee in his mug. He passed it to her. "Here."

Less than five minutes later, they were once again piling into the jeep. Diefenbaker had refused to go, and they decided to let him remain and amuse himself. There was nothing more aggravating than a petulant half-wolf.

Before Jill had a chance to start up the engine, Ray piped up with a question. "I know all this evidence seems to make it that Docherty is guilty...but if he is - then _why_ did he do it? I mean, was he really just drunk, or what?"

Jill shook her head sadly. "I honestly don't know. And if we catch up with..._when_ we catch up with him - that's what I intend to find out."

**OoooO**

The cell, though small, had a surprisingly comfortable cot in one corner, a small desk, and, amazingly to Ray, access to a _real_ toilet.Evidently, criminals in this part of the world lived in near luxury during their time in custody.

The door was wide open, the bed covers in disarray. The remnants of a meal were rotting slowly underneath a gun metal tray.

Ray stood at the thick cell door, watching as Fraser examined every part of the scene, searching for some small clue that might lead them to discover just how Docherty had escaped, and maybe - although it was a long shot - where he might be going.

From what Jill had told them, Bob Myers, just coming on duty for a day shift, had been asked to take Docherty's meal down to the cell.Docherty had informed him that he wasn't hungry, but if Myers could just put the meal on the desk, he might try a little later. And then Myers had made the fatal flaw - and being a security officer he really ought to have known better - he had turned his back on Docherty. Who had grabbed his gun, cracked him over the back of the head and made a break for it out of the cell door. A short trip down a flight of stairs had taken him out of the rear door of the building, and he had just begun to run. By the time that Myers had recovered sufficiently to report the incident - about fifteen minutes in all- Docherty was gone. And soon afterwards, a car was reported stolen from a small township nearby.

Myers looked on now, still nursing a sore head, and looking suitably guilty. "I just can't believe I did that. It's one of the main rules, isn't it. Never turn your back on a suspect."

Ray secretly agreed, but - maybe due to Fraser's influence - he tried to make Myers feel better. "If it hadn't have been you it would have been someone else. He was obviously determined to get out of here."

"Yeah. Guess that's my job, right? Get the cracks across the head, take bullets..."

"Yeah. Nice job."

"Still, it's better than in the US. I lost two partners."

Ray winced. "So you came up here for the quiet life, huh?"

"Something like that. Still, the city I was in - it was kind of small - nothing like Chicago."

"Yeah, but Chicago is nowhere near as bad as New York, or Miami...I guess it's kind of risky being a cop their but I couldn't leave. A place like this would drive me crazy. Sue me, man, but I like the smell of smog and exhaust fumes."

Myers nodded. "I nearly went back. But...well, I couldn't. You know the thing with partners - that bonding crap - there were just too many memories back there. And it wasn't as if I had any ties. You ever lose a partner?"

Ray shook his head no. Then he thought again. "Well, yeah - but only through them leaving the force, getting transferred, stuff like that."

"You're lucky."

"Yeah, well, I've come close a few times." He gestured in Fraser's direction. "Especially with that guy. You know horses wear blinkers when they're in races?"

"Yeah..."

"He wears them. You can't see them, but they're there. He walks up to guys with guns and tries to make them see the error of their ways."

"I can assure you..." Myers said with a smile "...that that is not the recommended practice of the RCMP."

"Well..." Ray looked relieved. "I'm glad to hear that because I was beginning to wonder."

"So you nearly lost him, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?"

"It's not high on my list of priorities, no." Ray looked down, then up at Myers, who's face was creased with concern. Now he thought back, he had never really spoken about it. He'd had counselling - well - one session, but had never gone back.He's forgotten the time of his next appointment. Or that's what he'd told everyone. So many times even he had begun to truly believe it. "He got shot. In the back."

"Jeez. That's a cowards way of shooting someone, man. So - you saw it?"

"In a sense."

"What'd you mean by that?"

"Well, I saw it...but I also..."

"You _did_ it?"

Ray didn't know whether to look sheepish, apologetic, upset, oreven smile with ironic humour. So he sought to exonerate himself. "Of course it _was_ an accident."

"So you _were_ aiming at someone else, then." A smile began to appear on Myers face, and Ray felt some of his building tension abate.

"Of course. I would have thought that was a given."

"Who?"

"His girlfriend."

Myers tipped his head back and began to laugh, revealing himself as a) one of those people with an incredibly infectious laugh - high pitched and raucous, and b) a snorter. Ray soon began to crack. "It's not funny!" he said, giving lie to the statement by giving in and chuckling along himself.

Myers gulped in a deep breath. "No. No it isn't. It must have been awful. So how come you two are still partners?"

"Among the many words that Fraser has no concept of - is grudge."

"So he _forgave_ you for shooting him, and for trying to kill his girlfriend?" Ray said nothing, simply shrugged. Reading the truth into his silence, he continued. "You haven't forgiven yourself though, huh?"

"No. Not while the reminders are still there."

"What reminders?"

"The bullet, mostly."

Myers looked from Ray, to Fraser, and back to Ray. "You're kidding."

"I wish I were."

"Well...you've got one hell of a partner there."

Ray nodded. "So, how about you?"

Myers face immediately closed off. "Look, I appreciate you sharing, but..." Myers glanced into the cells, spotting a welcome distraction. "Ray - what _is_ he doing?"

Ray glanced over to his partner. "Oh, my...Benny...!" Ray stepped into the cell, grabbed Fraser's shoulder and pulled him backwards. "_Stop_ that!" Ray placed a hand to his stomach. "I think I'm going to throw up!"

"Ray, I..."

"Well, it's nice to see you've got your sense of smell back."

Fraser's brow creased. "I haven't."

"So you weren't sniffing it?"

"No, I was..."

"You were _licking_ it?"

"Ray - it's not the first time I've..."

"Benny. Listen to me. I've put up with a lot of stuff from you. You can lick mud. Fine. You can lick someone else's chewing gum. Fine. You can lick someone else's fingernails. Disgusting, but _fine_!"

"Then I honestly don't see the problem."

"Benny - you were licking a stain on someone's _bed sheets_." Ray swallowed back some bile that was rising in his throat. "And by process of elimination there's only two...scratch that..._three_ things it could be. And none of them are things that anyone, in their fully correct state of mind, would want to put anywhere near their mouth, tongues, noses..." Realising he was hyperventilating again, and the only chance he had of calming down was to leave the scene forthwith, he backed towards the door.

"But, Ray, it's not..."

By this time, Ray had backed all the way around the corner, out of sight, but not out of earshot. "I don't want to know, Benny. I've go to go talk to Jill." As he continued speaking his voice began to fade into the distance. "About...I don't know what, but I'm sure I'll think of _something_ between here and..."

OoooO

Fraser approached Ray with an understandable amount of caution. Ray, though deep in conversation with Jill, was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He knew that look. It was Ray's _you'd better not even think of bothering me unless it's something vitally important _look. It usually failed however, mainly due to the huge gap between what Fraser regarded as vitally important and Ray's vision of the same.

What Fraser had just found out, he _did_ feel was vitally important. He had no idea what Ray's reaction might be, but he knew he had to at least mention it to him.

As he approached, Ray crossed his arms in front of his chest and his conversation with Jill petered out. There was a deathly silence - Ray was being obstinate, and to save an argument, Fraser knew he had to open the batting.

"So - do you want to know what I found in the cell?"

"Do I have any choice?" A 180 degree eye roll.

"The stain on the sheets was whisky, Ray. Malt."

Ray nodded, a smile making it's slow but inevitable progress across his mouth.

"I believe that it was a few years old - four or five. It was pure whisky, it had been spilt, not..."

"Not...what?" One side of Ray's mouth had taken on a life of it's own and was twitching uncontrollably.

"Passed, in any form."

"OK. So what significance are you placing onto this find, Fraser?"

"I have a theory. Though I'd be interested in input from the two of you."

"Yeah, I've got input, Benny. It may have failed to grab your attention, but this guy is an alcoholic. Plus..._plus_ the fact that you blew a whisky bottle apart when we were bringing him in, and then, correct me if I'm wrong, he ended up out of it in a pool of said golden liquid." A self satisfied, smug, smirk settled onto Ray's visage.

"You have a point, Ray - although wouldn't the whisky have dried into his clothes? It would follow that it wouldn't then transfer over to the sheets."

"Well...maybe, yeah...um...Jill?"

Jill shrugged. "We searched him when he was brought in. He didn't have any alcohol on him...as in bottles of...then."

"Is there any way he could possibly have got hold of any here?"

"No, alcohol is banned on the premises." She looked to Ray. "I think Ray might be right, Ben. He must have still had some whisky on his clothes which seeped into the sh...no. No - wait a minute..."

"What?" Ray was intrigued.

"We had to move Docherty into Davies' cell when we shipped him out. The cell he escaped from was Davies' originally."

"So it was Davies that had the liquor?"

"No, what I'm saying is, that when Docherty came in first he was in the other cell. For hours. So the stain on the sheets - well, it couldn't have happened, could it?"

Ray looked to Fraser, who was shaking his head. Always reluctant to accept his own ideas as wrong, he fought to regain some semblance of respect and dignity. "So Davies..."

"Davies was stone cold sober when we brought him in. He was also searched."

"Every nook and..."

"Crevice, yes."

"So Docherty must have gotten access to the liquor..."

"After he moved cells."

"But how?"

Jill sighed harshly. "I'm guessing somebody must have given it to him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. It's possible that it happened around 12 - when the shift swap happens. There's always the maximum amount of people here then."

Fraser's eyes narrowed. "How many?"

"We have fifteen on each shift..."

"Thirty."

"Yeah. But I can't believe that..."

Fraser fought to reassure her. She seemed to be fighting against a loss of faith in the force due to this case. And, if Fraser were forced to admit his true feelings, he was beginning to feel a similar way himself. "It may not have been a malicious act...possibly someone just felt sorry for him, or..."

"I hope so."

Ray piped up, beginning to feel left out. "So we question everybody?"

"Unless something else turns up first. This might not be good for station morale - if they don't think I trust them."

"If they're innocent, they have nothing to fear." Fraser placed a hand on Jill's shoulder.

Ray glared at the hand for a moment, then decided to ignore it and looked away. "So why did he move cells?" Against his will, almost, something was drawing him back down the wooden steps to the cells. Maybe subconsciously he didn't want to be in the same room while someone else - even his best friend - was touching his girlfriend.

"He had a bit of an accident. But Ray, I don't think you want to go in there...Ray? Ray?" Nothing. He was out of earshot. Jill looked at Fraser and winced.

"What?"

"Well, Docherty, he kind of..." Her words tapered off as Ray reappeared at the top of the steps. He was white. He was grimacing. He was, evidently, seriously grossed out.

Fraser took a step forward, hand outstretched. "Ray - are you..."

Ray shook himself from his stupor, and pointed down the steps. "He..." Nothing more came forth, as Ray swallowed frantically, his Adam's apple doing an impression of a mouse that had made a swift dash down a hosepipe to escape the attentions of a hungry cat.

"What, Ray?"

Ray couldn't even bring himself to say the words. A massive tremor shook his body, a shiver moving up and down his spine. The only noise that made it past his lips could only be approximated as "Euuuuuaaaarcccchhh." And with that he pushed past Fraser and bolted for the door.

Fraser simply looked on in amazement. Then he turned back to Jill. "What is down there?"

"Docherty...he blew chunks. And we haven't had a chance to clear up yet, what with...everything."

Fraser nodded, then belatedly decided to admit that he didn't understand what he had just heard. "He?"

"Threw up. Blew cookies. Talked to God on the big white telephone...he _vomited_, Ben."

Fraser opened his mouth, and then shut it again, not quite knowing what to say. Retching noises came from outside. "Ah."

"Yeah. Ah." There was another pause. Then Jill gestured towards the door. "I think we'd better go check on Ray, don't you?"

"Mmm. After you."

_OoooO_

"So you're sure that there is nothing else that we can do?"

Jill closed her eyes and sighed. "Guys - for the hundredth time, no. We've got the entire RCMP countrywide looking out for this guy. I think we have enough available resources to let the two of you carry on with what was _supposed_ to be a vacation."

Ray smiled wryly. "Yeah. But you'll let us know what happens, right - and no matter what -"

"I will be seeing you again." Her hand left the steering wheel for second to touch Ray's thigh. "Don't you worry about that. Worry about Fraser, huh? Make sure he doesn't miss any more doses of his antibiotics."

Ray turned slightly in his seat to regard his partner, who was once more asleep. He had been seeming a lot better throughout the earlier part of the day, but after neglecting to take his pills with him to the station house, and missing his next scheduled dose around two hours ago, he had taken another rapid downturn. "Yeah - I'll put him to bed."

"And he gets the sleeping bag, OK?"

Ray sighed harshly, then grinned to show he didn't mean it. "Of course."

They spent the next ten minutes in silence, until they reached the brow of the hill that hid the cabin from view. As they approached, Jill craned forward. "Hey, look at that."

Ray wiped some steam from the jeep windscreen with his jacketed arm, and saw what Jill was talking about. A red pickup was parked up outside the cabin. And it's occupant, a big, burly man, in jeans and a warm looking woollen jacket, was busying himself with the saw and a freshly felled pile of wood. Myers.

He looked up from his labours and waved as the jeep came into his view. He put down the saw, waited until they had arrived and Ray and Jill had disembarked, and greeted them again with a wide cheery grin. He gestured to the wood, and to the now nearly completed gable end of the cabin. "Couldn't help myself. Hope you don't mind."

Ray's eyebrows shot to the top of his head. "Mind? _Mind_? Are you nuts? You go right ahead. I'm no expert on these things but you look like you're doing a far better job than I could." He stirred as he felt Jill's presence to his right.

"Bob here built his own cabin from scratch. He's the Michelangelo of all things wooden."

"Where'd you learn?"

"Before I became a cop, I was an apprentice carpenter."

"Why'd you give it up?"

"The business got knocked over. The owner - my mentor of sorts - got shot to death. I wanted revenge - and being a law abiding citizen - becoming a cop was the best way I could think of doing it. It's still a hobby, though - and I may take it up again one day."

Ray glanced at his watch. "Well, there's a few hours light left. I'll give you a hand if you want. You can teach me some of what you know."

Myers grinned. "It'd be a pleasure, Ray." He took up the saw again and signalled an end to the conversation. Ray smiled at Jill. "Guess we'd better get the invalid to bed." He cracked open the rear door of the jeep.

Half whispering, he touched Fraser's arm gently. "Hey, Fraser?"

Nothing. Fraser didn't even respond to his touch.

"Fraser?"

Jill appeared behind him. "What's up?"

"I can't wake him up."

"You mean you can't or you _can't_?"

"Let's go with the former." Ray moved out of Jill's way as she stepped forward, a line of concern creasing his brow. Jill hiked herself up onto the seat beside Fraser. "Ben?" She shook his arm. "Hey, Ben?"

Finally, a response. Fraser pulled his arm away, and grumbled something under his breath. Jill turned to look at Ray and smiled. "He's OK. He's just very tired. Like I say, we need to get him in and into bed. Hey, Bob?"

Myers looked up again, then dropped the saw and walked over. "Save us two a couple of hernias, will you?"

Myers grinned. "Out of my way." Jill backed off, hands raised. Myers ducked in, and dragged a mildly complaining Fraser out of the back of the jeep, and onto his shoulder in a fireman's lift. His legs buckled slightly under the weight. "Jeez - he's not light, is he?"

Ray's eyes rolled. "Tell me about it."

"Where'd you want him?"

"You sound like a removal man." She gestured to the cabin. "Inside."

With Myers bearing his burden to the cabin, Jill turned back to Ray. "Thanks again for all your help. We wouldn't have got this far without you."

"We still don't know for sure that Docherty is guilty."

"All the fingers are pointing towards him. We've got everything except a motive. And..." She gazed over Ray's shoulder. "That's the kind of murder I hate more than anything. It's so pointless."

"All murder is pointless." Ray agreed, nodding.

"Yeah. But again - thanks."

"That's about the twentieth time you've said that."

She stepped towards him, touched his arm, looked up, then down, almost coyly. "I don't want to leave. If I get caught up in this case...and it drags on too long..."

"Shhh." Ray placed a finger to her lips. "I'll tell you something about Ray Vecchio. My glass - it's _always_ half full."

"Your optimism is infectious."

Ray grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Who's talking about optimism?" The moment had again arrived, and he bent his head down to meet her welcoming lips.

And then it happened.

Just before their lips docked, there was an almighty crash from inside the cabin, followed by a loud exclamation of pain. Jill and Ray swapped shocked expressions for a second, and then ran towards the cabin door.

They reached it at precisely the same second, and in their rush to get in became jammed together between the derns. And when they saw the spectacle before them, any thought of moving was banished from their minds.

Myers was sprawled face down on the floor, the remnants of one of Uncle Tiberius Fraser's chairs splayed beneath him. Fraser was also on the floor, but sitting up, rubbing his head ruefully. Ray and Jill exchanged glances, then split up, Jill to tend to her colleague and Ray to tend to his friend.

Ray hunkered down beside Fraser. "You OK?"

"What happened?"

"You saying that because you were asleep or because you can't remember?"

Fraser grimaced. "Both. So what happened?"

"I think Goliath over there must have buckled under your weight. Still - we had to wake you up somehow." He made a grab for the bottle of tablets that were just within reach on the table. He dropped two into Fraser's open palm. "Take these." He looked on in near disgust as Fraser downed them without water, then got to his feet, taking Fraser's hand and hefting him up.

Jill was helping Myers to his feet, who seemed to be having a little trouble putting his weight on his right foot. He looked at Fraser with a sheepish and apologetic expression. "Sorry, Frase."

"That's quite alright." Fraser dismissed his transgression with a wave of his hand.

"I think my ankle must've turned over. It's got a tendency."

"Like I say that's quite alright. No damage done." Ray glanced at a small blue and purple bruise that was already blossoming on Fraser's temple, but said nothing. He felt compelled to comment, however, when Fraser's expression turned to one of a questioning frown.

"What's up?"

"What was that?"

Jill: "What was what?"

"I heard something." Jill's own expression mirrored Fraser's and she slid a cautious hand around her back to her gun holster. Fraser's raised hand stopped her actions in their tracks, and he approached the cabin door, opening it slowly. When his ears finally focused on what the noise was, he gave them a relieved smile. "It's the radio, Jill. In your jeep."

Jill let out an inheld breath that she didn't know she had been holding. She smiled almost wryly at the others, then made her way out to the jeep.

Myers let out a bellowing laugh. "A little jumpy, aren't we?" His laughter died out as he realised no-one was sharing the joke. He looked up with relief as Jill came back in, breaking the moment.

"Docherty has been spotted."

"Where?"

"A cabin about twenty kilometres from here. It's an hours drive away." She removed her Sig Sauer from it's holster and checked the load purposefully. "So who's up for it?"

Ray, Myers and Fraser exchanged glances then nodded as one. Ray shrugged back into the jacket he had just removed, and Myers similarly checked his weapon. Then, after looking at Fraser thoughtfully, he bent, pulled up his right trouser leg and took out his spare weapon which had been stashed in his ankle holster. He passed it to Fraser who accepted it with thanks.

"So," Jill said, taking a deep, albeit slightly quivering deep breath. "Let's go bring this son of a bitch in."

OoooO

Approximately ten minutes from their destination, Jill filled them in on the details.

"Apparently there was an anonymous tip off from someone in the area. It was probably an illegal hunter."

"Yet one with a conscience." Fraser, now running on pure adrenaline, was a completely different figure of a man than he had been just an hour ago.

Ray nodded. "Yeah. I guess just because they want to shoot a few mooses without telling anyone, it doesn't mean they wouldn't let someone know if they spotted a killer on the loose. Might buy them a little lee-way if their transgression came to light." There was a moment's silence. Fraser turned his head to regard his partner, seated next to him in the back seat. "What?"

Fraser simply said "Don't start that again."

"Don't start _what_?"

"You know very well, Ray."

"No, I don't."

"Well, if you don't, far be it from me to remind you. It would only open the subject up again, and as I said when you brought the subject up originally, now is really not the time."

"The time for _what_? Unlike you, Benny, I can't remember every single thing I've ever said. Especially to you. Jeez, I might as well talk to a wall sometimes the amount you take any notice of what I've got to say. I'm happy for you if you've got a pornographic memory, but I don't. I never have. I remember what's important and the rest of it, it's gone. I haven't got time, unlike you to ponder over relative trivialities. The social and language eccentricities of a tiny Inuit tribe somewhere in Uruguay are not and will never be..." Ray looked around himself as he realised that Fraser, Myers were looking at him, and Jill was giving him a puzzled yet affectionate look in the rear-view mirror. "WHAT?"

Myers coughed to clear his throat. "It's the Yukon, actually. Not Uruguay."

Ray's eyebrows hiked. "Same difference."

"Well, yeah, except that Uruguay isn't in Canada."

Ray shrugged and said nothing. He, being Ray Vecchio, Detective First Class, Chicago PD, was not going to let the truth get the better of him by admitting that until now he _had_ believed Uruguay to be in Canada. No way.

"And it's a _photo_graphic memory, actually." Fraser commented, careful not to make eye contact, which would undoubtedly become to Ray a look of self satisfied victory.

Ray, however, finally felt vindicated. "That's what I _said_..."

"I think you'll find you didn't."

"I think you'll find I did. You can't have been hearing right. Catarrh. That's it. You need to unblock your passages."

"Ray, I..."

Fraser was stopped before he could begin by Jill. "Guys!" She raised her voice by a few decibels in volume and by at least two octaves. "Are you two always like this?"

Almost simultaneously, Fraser and Ray gave completely differing answers. Ray a resounding yes, and Fraser an equally resounding no.

"Guys, we're nearly there. So I'd better help you resolve this little disagreement. Ray, trust me, you _didn't_ say photographic."

"Oh. OK. So what _did_ I say?"

"Something similar. Starts with a 'p' and also ends in 'graphic'."

There was another moment of silence while cogs whirred inside Ray's head. Light dawned. "Ah. Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah, that's OK." The laughter had left Jill's voice. "We're here."

They could just see the cabin over the brow of the hill. "So what's the plan?" There was a sudden silence. "Do we _have_ a plan?"

Jill shrugged. "I was coming up with one when you two started playing up in the back seat. Now I know why I don't have kids."

Ray and Fraser wilted simultaneously. Myers decided to take charge of the situation. "Well, we should split up. Two of us in the cabin, two to check the outhouses."

"Sounds like a plan to me. So, who with who?"

"Well, from what we know - this guy is big. And he's also probably drunk. I don't want anyone..." he glanced a Jill "...to be offended but I think that it's best that Fraser and I go inside. We're both armed, and the likelihood is that he'll be in there, unless he's gone for a comfort break."

Ray couldn't help himself. "A what?"

Myers didn't deign to look at him. "Use your imagination, Vecchio." Ray sank further into the vinyl seat. "You're unarmed, and Jill...well..."

"Don't say it. You've got a point." She blew air out between her lips which lifted part of her brown fringe from her forehead to slowly settle back again. "Guess there's no time like the present."

Simultaneously, they disembarked, closing the jeep doors quietly lest they be overheard. The split into their two designated groups, Ray and Jill moving off into the trees. Myers nodded to Fraser, who ran quietly and quickly down the hill, weapon drawn.

The cabin, though large, had only one door, at the front. Taking their positions on either side of the door, Myers nodded to Fraser who swung around, kicked the door open, and levelled his gun. Nothing. They had entered into a hallway. There were two rooms to their left, two to their right. Myers pointed to the left. Fraser nodded, and moved to the right.

The door to the first room was slightly ajar. He pushed at it slowly with his gloved hand, peering in. Nothing. Then he moved in slowly, his thumb ready to crack back the safety on his gun. Still, nothing. It was a large bedroom, yet mostly featureless. There was nowhere to hide, apart from under the bed, and in the big mahogany wardrobe, both of which he checked, to no avail.

More relaxed, but not letting down his guard even a fraction, he left the bedroom and moved up the hall to the next room. As before, he pushed at the door.

And then there was a yell. It made him almost physically jump, and his heart was still jumping afterwards. "Fraser! I've found him!"

The voice was coming from the room directly opposite where Fraser was standing. He stepped forward and opened the door wide. It was a living area, with a sofa, and chairs. Myers stood in the centre of the room, his face ashen, his gun hanging loosely at his side.

"He's...he must have..." Fraser moved over to where Myers was looking. Almost immediately bile rose in his throat. A bullet hole perforated Docherty's temple. His pistol lay on the ground beneath a lifeless hand. And in the other was a bottle of whisky. Malt.

"I guess he must have been guilty."

Fraser shook his head. "There's still no proof of that." He knelt next to Docherty's lifeless form. He touched the pale skin of Docherty's hand. "He's been dead for a good while. Around three or four hours, I'd say." Fraser turned his head to look up at Myers. "Then how could the witness have seen him?"

"I guess he might have seen something, and didn't realise the significance until later. Heard it on the radio, maybe."

"That's a legitimate suggestion." Fraser got to his feet. "I'm still not convinced that Docherty was guilty."

"Then why would he kill himself?"

"Depression, maybe. Having to face the fact that he's an alcoholic, that it's taken over his life."

"Yeah, but it doesn't explain the tape, though, does it? The fact that Alice started screaming when she heard it."

"No." Fraser sighed. "Guess I like to tie up the loose ends."

"I think this knot is well and truly tied."

Fraser nodded, and holstered his weapon. Then he looked up again at Myers. "What did you say?"

"The tape...Alice screaming..."

"After that. About the knot."

Myers laughed, albeit a little edgily. "What's a _knot_ got to do with anything?"

"Jill sent a part of the first interview on the tape. The one where I was suffering from...chemical..."

"You were stoned."

"Mmm. And Ray mentioned to me that during that period I was somewhat engrossed in playing with a toy that I'd found at the station."

The latest in a series of indefinable looks crossed Myers' face. "What toy?"

Fraser looked down, swallowing, a conclusion coming to him that he didn't want to believe. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Myers shrugged. His hand moved slightly, yet so slightly that Fraser didn't catch it.

"It was a wooden toy. I thought, as you have an interest in woodworking, it may have something to do with you."

"Nah..." Another movement. "There's a lot of guys into that. Didn't your dad ever teach you to make small things with wood?"

"No. My uncle did however." Fraser turned his head once more to look at Docherty's corpse. "I just feel that it may not have been Docherty's _voice_ that Alice was screaming at." Fraser leaned over and picked up a throw that was draped over the back of the sofa, placing it gently over Docherty.

"You've made a mistake." Myers said, to Fraser's rear.

"Maybe, I..."

And then Fraser realised that Myers wasn't talking about his theory. In fact, his theory was probably spot on.

He felt the cold metal being pressed up against his neck. Every muscle in his body stiffened.

"You know Fraser, you should have learned from _my_ mistake.

_Never_ turn your back on a suspect."

OoooO

Fraser straightened, slowly. With the gun in his right hand, now pointed in the middle of Fraser's spine, Myers retrieved his spare pistol and holstered it.

"You have to keep pushing, don't you?" Myers almost growled behind him. "If you'd just let it lie, this wouldn't have happened."

Despite his best intentions, Fraser's voice quivered as he spoke. "I have a duty to ensure that justice is carried out. Which is not only ensuring that the guilty are jailed, but also proving people innocent of charges levelled against them, when that is the true state of affairs."

Myers placed a hand on Fraser's shoulder and spun him around to face him. The laughter and friendliness that had marked Myers past expressions had gone, to be replaced by - well, by nothing that Fraser could discern. His eyes were empty. Cold.

Fraser's own eyes narrowed. "What are you going to do?"

"_You_ are going to do exactly as I say." He roughly shoved Fraser in front of him, and then unclipped his handcuffs from his belt. The metal was cold against Fraser's wrists as he clamped them on. And once again nestling his weapon into Fraser's spine, he barked his first command. "Move." Fraser had no choice but to follow Myers' bidding. Together they walked out of the building. Fraser looked around himself. Neither Ray or Jill were in sight. "To the jeep."

Fraser and Myers made the tough slog up the steep incline to where the jeep had been parked out of sight. He called for Fraser to stop, and turn.

It wasn't often that Fraser was genuinely surprised by a perpetrators acts, but Myers provided such an opportunity. He sucked in a breath and shouted. "Jill! Ray!"

Less than thirty seconds later, Ray and Jill appeared from behind the cabin. Seeing Myers and Fraser by the jeep, Jill made a natural assumption. "You didn't find anything?" Myers didn't reply, just glared down at them as they approached. "Myers?"

When Ray and Jill were within about twenty metres, Myers raised his weapon. He levelled it at Fraser's head. Jill started and almost broke into a run, before Ray reached out and grabbed her arm. "Myers, what the hell are you doing!"

"I think it's time for a little confession." Myers voice was cool, calm, collected. The mark, Fraser thought, of a true psychopath. "I was the one that gave Docherty the liquor."

Jill was genuinely confused. "So?"

"I also helped him escape. I also followed him here."

Jill glanced at Ray, who's attention was firmly fixed on Fraser, their eyes locked in desperate contact.

"And..." Myers gestured with his free hand to the cabin behind them. "I also killed him - and made it look like suicide." Myers looked at Fraser. "Does that clear it up for you?"

Fraser nodded. "And the yo-yo?"

"Was mine."

Jill's eyes clouded over with tears. Whether they were of confusion, anger, fear...she honestly didn't know. "So you killed Alice's mother? And left Alice for dead?"

"I would think that that was what this was all about, yes."

Jill took another step forward, and Ray once again made a frantic grab for her arm. To aggravate Myers could lead to disaster, firstly the death of Fraser, and then of themselves. "Jill, don't!" Jill's head whipped back and forth from Myers to Ray.

"But why?"

"There's a reason. But I'm only prepared to tell Fraser here. He seems a good listener. But not until we're back at his cabin."

Jill, struggling vainly to stop herself from shaking, nodded. "Fine. Then let's go."

Myers' face grew a darker shade of red, visible even from their distance. "Didn't you hear what I said? _Fraser_ and _I_ will be going back to the cabin. Alone." Myers moved the gun down to Fraser's neck. He pointed to the sky. "We'd best be going, before the storm sets in."

Both Jill and Ray's eyes flicked up to the ominous, yellow-tinged sky. Ray took his turn to speak.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"Use your imagination, Vecchio." He paused for a moment, considering his statement. "On the other hand, I'll set you a challenge."

Jill was growing increasingly frustrated. "What challenge?"

"I've confessed. OK. And I know that I should go to jail for what I've done."

"That's the truth."

"My challenge is this. If you can make it back to the cabin in two hours, one hundred twenty minutes, whatever you prefer...I'll give myself up. You can take me in. In honour of your..." A mocking laugh. "...your fitness and survival skills."

"And if we don't?" Ray shouted, afraid of the answer.

"I think you already know." With that he pushed Fraser roughly towards the Jeep, ordering him to climb in and slamming the passenger door beside him. He got in himself, similarly slammed the drivers door and reversed away, out of sight.

Jill broke out of a near stupor, and into a run, making a mad dash up the slope, Ray hot on her heels. Her gun was out, ready to fire.

But the Jeep was already out of range. A sudden pain assailed her below her right rib cage, and she doubled over. Ray crouched down beside her. "Jill?"

Jill's eyes flicked up. The tears that had been threatening to spill over now were fulfilling their promise. In a trembling voice, she spoke to Ray. "What the hell happened, Ray? How did this happen? Why would Myers have..." She took in a deep breath to try to calm herself, but failing, she straightened up, Ray following suit.

"I don't know." Ray gazed out to where the Jeep tracks lay in the snow. "But Fraser will tell us. When we get back there." Ray nodded purposefully and began to follow the Jeep's route. He was twenty metres away when he noticed Jill wasn't following. He spun around, but in his effort to waste as little time as possible, kept walking backwards. "Jill!"

Jill ran down the hill towards him. "Ray, Myers was right. There's a storm coming in. A bad one. Sometime in the next few hours."

"All the more reason to move now, before it sets in." Ray turned back in the correct direction, and began striding away at a pace that was a near run.

"Ray, what if we get lost? In the storm? We'll be of no help to Fraser lying in a snowdrift!"

Anger brought Ray to a halt. "I thought you knew your way round here."

"Blizzards can be very disorienting."

Ray shook his head, both in anger and growing disbelief. "You're making it sound as if you don't want to bother. You're making it sound as if you'd rather stay here, all cosy and snug until the snow dies down."

"Ray, I'm just..."

"Jill - if you're not going, I _am_!"

"You can't go on your own! I didn't say I wasn't going to try. I was just being realistic. We may not make it. The risk of that is...it's high."

A lump appeared in Ray's throat, making it almost impossible for him to speak. When he did, it was a near whisper. "It's worth the risk. _Fraser_ is worth the risk. I'd die to save that guy." A lone tear snuck out and ran down the side of Ray's nose.

"I know." Jill placed her hand on Ray's arm. "Let's do it."

OoooO

Ray's crack, just a few short days before, about pins and needles, repeated itself over and over in Fraser's head. His hands, cuffed behind him, had gone to sleep. It'd be agony when they woke up.

Firmly, he commanded himself to stop thinking of such trivial things. Although this situation had just come so suddenly out of nowhere - it was almost like one of his fevered dreams.

Myers drove too fast, and recklessly, not sparing a word for his captive. Fraser judged it too dangerous to speak, as a loss of control at the wheel now could lead to a premature and unexpected end to this unfortunate ordeal.

A strange sense of relief overwhelmed him as they approached the cabin. Myers' pickup still waited outside. And so, Fraser saw with fear growing in his chest, was Diefenbaker.

Fraser knew his boon companion well enough to be able to judge exactly what Diefenbaker would do when he saw his master in this predicament. He'd immediately leap to attack.

Despite the consequences that may bring on himself.

The Jeep drew to a skidding halt, and Myers herded Fraser out. Just as he had anticipated, Diefenbaker growled and barked loudly, his hackles immediately raising, in an effort to look larger and more threatening. His sights locked on Myers, Diefenbaker began to run, fangs bared.

"DIEF - NO!" Fraser yelled the command. Dief stopped in his tracks, then looked to his master. Acquiescing, he backed off.

"Make him go into the cabin."

"Dief - in." Fraser enunciated. Dief shot his master a look, then obeyed the command.

Fraser craned his head to look at Myers. "Don't hurt him."

"I wasn't planning to. I like animals."

Fraser decided not to comment. He stepped over the threshold and into the cabin. He was on home ground now. Not much of an advantage, being unarmed, and handcuffed - but maybe it could help - at least psychologically. Myers pushed Fraser into a chair. Pulling the blanket off of the table, he ripped off some strips. He set about binding Fraser to the chair, taking care not to remove his cuffs until the task was done. Myers ducked outside, and came back a moment later with some rope, with which he tied Diefenbaker, growling savagely but doing little more, to a support beam.

And then Myers loomed over his prisoner, his pistol still grasped in his hand.

Fraser chose this moment to speak. "What is the point of all this?"

"The point?"

"Bringing me back here. This challenge you've set Jill and Ray. If you wanted to kill us all, you could have done it back at the other cabin. But this, it's almost sadistic."

Myers blinked in incomprehension. "I'm a murderer. That's among one of our most common qualities." Myers backed up a couple of steps and perched himself on the edge of the table. "I meant what I said. If they get back here in - another 70 minutes - I'll give myself up. But - it's not very likely, is it?"

"Jill is a very resourceful woman. You of all people should know that."

"Even she cant traverse twenty kilometres on foot in two hours."

"She'll find a way."

"Not in a blizzard."

"I believe you're overestimating the severity of the coming snow storm. In order to try to make them believe that the challenge is impossible. And also underestimating Jill's determination."

"That may be so. But what about your friend? From what I've seen of him he's not exactly...the adventurous type."

"That may be true. He was brought up in a strictly urban environment. But even now he continues to confound my expectations."

"Yeah, that's for sure." There was a tone to Myers voice which belied knowledge that Fraser wished to be privy to.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why would a man risk his life in a blizzard, in a landscape he doesn't know to save the life of a man he gunned down and almost killed?"

Fraser looked to the ground. "You know about that?"

"From the horses mouth."

"I'm sure he also told you that it was an accident."

"Well, he'd say that wouldn't he?" Myers removed a rough cloth from his pocket, and began cleaning the barrel of his gun. His action was blackly reminiscent of someone preparing the knives to cut into the turkey at Thanksgiving.

"Ray wouldn't have shot me on purpose."

"And you're sure about that?"

"You obviously don't know him. I _know_ him."

"Yeah. Partners. That's it, isn't it. Partners. You know each others thoughts. You finish each others sentences. You can even predict, y'know, exactly to the word what your partner would say in a given situation."

"Yes. It's an almost inexplicable form of closeness." Fraser looked up at Myers with a growing sense of understanding. "You had a partner?"

"Yeah. Back in the US. You were right, you know. About where I'm from." Fraser resisted the temptation to nod agreement. "He was called Jacob - well, Jake. Jake Hawkins."

"He's...?"

"Yeah. Ten years back. I was his partner for what, eighteen months? We bonded - I was his best man - when he married Jackie."

"Jackie? _Jacqueline_?"

Myers coughed out a laugh. "You're very quick. Jacqueline. Maiden name Reeves. Married name Hawkins. Also known as..."

"Owen."

Things were beginning to fall into place, but not all of them were making sense. "Why would you kill the widow of your ex-partner? And try to kill her daughter?"

Myers slammed the palm of his gunless hand down onto the table. "Because - because it wasn't fair."

"What wasn't? Bob? _What_ wasn't?"

"It's not what Jake would've wanted."

Fraser shook his head. "You can't say that."

"I _know_! He wouldn't have wanted her to...because he...it was all he ever wanted!" Myers grip was tightening round the barrel of the gun, his knuckles turning as white as the snow that was falling outside the cabin window.

As softly, and as calmly as he could, Fraser pressed further. "What was all he wanted?"

"He wanted kids. Badly. But he couldn't. Y'know, he had mumps...and..."

"Did they consider adoption?"

Myers nodded. "They were all lined up. They'd got through all the interviews, all the tests, and then I had to go and..." Myers stopped, blinked away some tears, and looked back up at Fraser.

"Tell me." Fraser already had a good idea of the denouement of this particular tale, but he felt that he had to get Myers to say it. He sensed it was something that he had been bottling up for all of the past ten years, and it was this which had finally, inexorably led to him committing his recent acts. Myers shook his head, then stood, looking out of the door into the darkening sky.

"Bob. Tell me."

Fraser saw Myers' shoulders sag, and simultaneously felt a little wave of relief. But his next words were not those expected. Quietly, he said two words.

"Shut up."

Fraser shook his own head. "Tell me."

And then Myers' body started shaking, in a tremor borne of pure anger. Fraser sucked in a breath. His instincts began yelling at him, but a little late. He'd made a terrible mistake.

Myers spun around and advanced on Fraser, towering over him once more. "If I tell you to shut up - that's what you do. You are my prisoner. You are not - I repeat - not - my therapist."

"I'm sorry."

Myers laughed, a harsh, disbelieving laugh. He looked at Fraser with pure confusion in his eyes. And then, in a lightning swift movement, he drew back the arm holding the gun and smashed the butt of the weapon into Fraser's right temple.

Fraser vision faded from red, to grey, to black, and his head sagged once more to his chest.

From his position in the corner, Dief rose to his feat and growled and barked threateningly. Myers levelled his gun and Dief's head. "Don't make me use this."

With that, Myers spun on his heels and exited, stage left.

Dief turned his head to regard his master. He was out, a larger bruise replacing the existing one on his temple.

He needed help.

And there were two things he could do. One was to help Fraser directly. And the second was going to get help.

The plans success depended on two major factors. One - whether or not Myers had left enough slack on his rope. And the second...Dief glanced up.

A timely arrival would help with the second part of the plan.

A timely arrival - who was standing at the opposite end of the cabin, looking for all the world like he had never left, regarding his sons' predicament with an expression of grave concern.

OoooO

Pulling his jacket closer to him, and zipping it a little further up to his chin, Ray trotted after Jill, who was setting quite a formidable pace. He hadn't thought to glance at his watch - if they were running behind time it was not something that he wanted to know. He was running on faith alone, faith that they would make it, with time to spare. Faith that Myers would keep his promise, and give himself up into Jill's custody. And faith that he would let Fraser go - unharmed.

The snow had set in, but it was, as yet, nowhere near blizzard conditions. The temperature, however, had dipped significantly, to Ray's estimation, just below freezing. His face, the only unprotected part of him, burned with the cold.

He couldn't help wishing that he hadn't inherited his grandfather's legendary Italian nose.

Jill was around twenty metres ahead, sparing only the merest of glances back in Ray's direction. He knew that as long as he kept her in sight, he would be fine. If he got lost, out here in the snow - well, the consequences didn't bear thinking about.

Unused as he was to this kind of exercise, he was becoming rapidly exhausted. And hungry. He hadn't eaten for...how long? Well, that would involve looking at his watch.

Upping his pace, he jogged to catch up with Jill. "You got any food on you?"

"Yeah." She fished, unseeing, into her pack and produced a gold-wrapped bar. "It's an energy bar. You'll need it, if we're going to make it on time." When Ray said nothing, she looked at him properly. "We're on schedule, Ray. Let's just hope that this snow doesn't become any heavier."

"How much time do you think we'll have to spare?"

Jill shrugged. "Enough." She refused to elaborate further on this statement. She looked back at Ray and saw he was struggling with the packaging on his chocolate bar. She noted with alarm that, in an attempt to get a better grip, he was about to remove his gloves. "No! Ray - keep them on. We may not be experiencing extreme temperatures, but we can't take the risk of you getting frostbite. Especially as you're not used to these conditions. It won't be a case your fingers turning blue. It'll be a case of you never being able to fire a gun again."

Ray swallowed. He pushed the glove back on, and continued struggling with the bar. "Then how come they don't make these things easier to open?"

"One of the mysteries of life, Ray. Like milk cartons."

"What do you do with milk cartons around here in the winter, anyway?"

Jill snorted. "We have to leave them to thaw out and then strain out the lumps." Ray looked at her aghast, and she laughed. "We don't get it delivered, Ray. That would be ridiculous. We buy it, in these places called shops and keep it in a device called a fridge. You still have some strange ideas about Canadians, don't you? How long is it you've known Fraser now?"

"Two and a half years." Ray's eyes misted briefly and looked off into the distance. "But..." An unconvincing laugh. "He's not every Canadian."

"No. Guess not." He reached out and touched Ray's arm. "He always pulls through, doesn't he, Ray?"

Ray couldn't help but smile. "You're right there. In two years he's been stabbed, beaten up more times than I care to remember, he's suffered blindness, paralysis, dehydration, - and that was just on one vacation - a bad case of the flu...and being shot. Four times." He looked at Jill and winced. "Twice by me."

"How'd you manage that?"

"He kept getting in the way. Nah - the second time wasn't much. I hit him in the neck with a blank during a training exercise."

"And the first?"

"Almost killed him."

"I'm sure he forgave you in a heartbeat."

There was a slight pause before Ray continued. "Yeah, well, there was nothing to forgive. It was his fault."

"How come?"

"Well, he kept saying he was going to adjust the sights on my gun. He never did get around to it."

Jill suddenly stopped in her tracks as they reached the brow of a hill, and surveyed the landscape. "Well - you can remind him when we get back." She then pointed to her right. "That way."

Ray was puzzled. "Shouldn't we just move straight on?"

Jill shook her head defiantly. "Trust me, Ray."

Ray spread his gloved hands. "I do."

"It's the fastest route."

Ray followed Jill's direct gaze. She was looking at a route down the snowy bank that was at a very steep incline, just a little less than vertical. "You're...we'll...Jill!"

Jill shifted her pack back onto her back, and resumed walking. "We're not going to _walk_ down it, Ray."

"So we're, you mean..." Realisation dawned. "Wow. Cool."

OoooO

Diefenbaker's ears pricked up as he heard Myers' boots crunching snow by the cabin door. He looked up from his task, then down at what he had done. Was it enough? He didn't know. But he had to count his blessings. Myers had left him just enough slack to carry out the first part of his plan.

And now Myers was returning - it was time for the second. He just prayed that Robert Fraser was on the same wavelength.

Fraser was stirring back into consciousness. He had just enough time to realise what his loyal friend had done, and whisper his thanks. Though for now, he would still have to maintain the pretence.

Myers had no interest in resuming his conversation with Fraser, so instead he set about preparing himself a mug of coffee, letting go of his gun for the first time and dropping it on the table next to him.

Fraser heaved a sigh of regret. He _could_ leap up, grab the gun.

But the sad truth was that his vision was still blurred, his head still throbbed. The risk was much too great to take.

He had to keep Myers talking. To - to make him change his mind, maybe. Or to distract him, so that if - when - Jill and Ray made it back in time, they may be able to take him by surprise, overpower him. But he had to wait for Myers to speak first. He knew he'd be playing a dangerous game were he to take the initiative.

Glancing up, wincing against the light, he could just make out the distinctive form of a newcomer. Commanding himself not to react, a signal passed between father and son. A plan was brewing. And he would have to go along with it as best he could.

As Myers downed his mug of coffee in one, Robert drew in a breath and yelled.

"Come out Myers! We know you're in there!" Myers jumped and almost choked on his coffee. Fraser turned his head and looked out of the window, as if he could see something - or someone - out there that Myers couldn't from his vantage point. Myers head snapped round to look at Fraser, and then he followed his gaze to the window. Then he ran to the window and looked out.

Nothing.

No-one.

But he checked again.

Then Robert called out again, but this time only Fraser and Dief heard. "Go, Dief - now!"

Diefenbaker didn't need to be asked twice. He jumped to his feet, and pulled sharply at the rope he had chewed through, which immediately snapped. He barged past Myers and disappeared out of the door. Pure anger crossed Myers' face, and he chased after him, firing indiscriminately in what he hoped was the right direction. But Dief was too fast, and he had been swallowed up by the advancing twilight.

Myers spun back around to Fraser. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't do anything." It was the absolute truth. Dief and his father had cooked it up between them. Dief could now find Jill and Ray, or some other help, somewhere.

Add that to the other ace up his sleeve - things were looking rosier by the second. He glanced at the clock. He'd been out a little over thirty minutes. Thirty-five minutes left.

Myers sipped at the remnants of his coffee. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I'm sorry - I..." Myers closed his eyes and scratched his head with the hand holding the gun. "I don't know what...happens sometimes, that's all."

Fraser nodded. "You were upset. It was understandable."

"You ever get upset?"

"Of course. Though it's better to release it - in whatever form - than to keep it bottled up."

Myers laughed wryly. "You can say that again." There was an awkward pause in the proceedings. Fraser glanced at the clock again. Thirty minutes.

He really had nothing to lose.

"You killed your partner, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Stake out. Went belly-up. We got split up on the bust...you can imagine the rest."

"So it was an accident."

"That's what people kept telling me, yeah."

"It wasn't your fault."

Myers clicked his fingers together and pointed at Fraser. "That's another one. Y'know, they gave me counselling. That's what they kept saying, over and over. It was accident, it wasn't my fault. But who else pulled the trigger, huh? Tell me that, Fraser!"

"I understand you feel guilty. I know Ray feels the same way. You should talk to him. It would do both of you good."

"You know how Ray feels? He's told you?"

Fraser's brow wrinkled, he shrugged and shook his head. "Not directly, no."

"So how do you know?"

Fraser looked up at Myers, jaw set. None of the things that he thought of to say seemed right, seemed convincing.

"Yes, Fraser, I'm sure Ray does feel guilty. I'm sure the memory of what he did to you will stay with him forever. He'll see it every night in his dreams. His hand will shake just a little every time he draws, or fires his gun. You may not know that, but I do. Because that's how I've felt for the last ten years, Fraser. It never lets up. It never lets go. But do you know the advantage that Ray has over me?"

Fraser nodded. One eye was trained on the hand in which Myers was holding the gun. His thumb was resting on the safety, and the muscles were beginning to tighten. "I could hazard a guess."

"Fill me in."

"Because I forgave him. And Jake couldn't."

"Give the man a big round of applause, ladies and gentlemen."

"Though if you knew Jake as well as you say - how do you know he wouldn't have forgiven you - had he lived?"

When Myers spoke, his voice was quiet, so much so that Fraser almost had to strain to hear it. "Because I took his life away. I took away his future, all his chances. I took away the chance of him being a father to a beautiful little girl like Alice."

"But..."

"But, what?"

"I've just remembered something that Alice told me."

"And what was that?"

But Fraser was intent on keeping it from him, for now at least. It might just prove to be the third ace in his hand. "After - after the incident - what did you do?"

Myers sighed, blew some air from between his lips, and loosened his grip on the gun, Fraser letting out a similar breath of relief as his thumb slipped off of the safety. "I stuck around. For a week or so."

"I thought you said that you had counselling?"

"Yeah. One session."

"So where did you go then, Bob?"

"I left. Moved to Toronto, stayed there for a while. Changed my name, got a new job..."

"Did anyone from New Jersey try to contact you?"

Myers shrugged. "Don't know. Even if they did, everyone knew me as Bob Myers. Look, guy, if you know something I don't, you'd better tell me, else..."

Fraser's steely blue eyes flicked up to meet his. "I don't know if it will change anything. In fact it may make things worse."

"Things can't get much worse for you, Fraser. And I guess, after what I've done, they can't get much worse for me."

Fraser eyed Myers warily. It seemed that a shift was happening. He was no longer entirely sure that it was _his_ life that was now at risk.

"Alice - she told me that Peter Owen - her father...is in fact her _step_-father."

Myers' eyes narrowed. "So what difference does that make?"

"I think you know, Bob. Just let yourself believe."

Myers tightened his grip on the pistol once more, stood, and paced the room. After about two minutes, he stopped, facing the window.

"It's not possible. She must have been lying."

"What possible reason would a nine year old girl have to lie?"

"It is _not_ possible!"

"Bob - it is! Alice told me that her father - her _biological_ father - was a law enforcer. In the United States. And he was killed a few months before she was born. Jackie couldn't have known that she was pregnant before you left! Otherwise - don't you think that she would have told you?"

Myers wiped a hand across a brow which was now beaded with sweat despite the draught coming through the ajar door. "So that would mean..."

"That Alice is _Jake's_ daughter."

"But, he never - it's still not..." Myers muttered, almost feverishly to himself. Then, slowly, he turned back towards Fraser. "I think that you're the one who's lying, Fraser."

Fraser's eyes fell shut in a mix of disappointment and sheer frustration. Twenty minutes were now left. Would it be enough to make Myers believe the facts that were being presented to him? "I have no reason to lie to you, Bob. I just believe that you should know. Although Jake didn't survive, to see his daughter born, to see her grow up - she does exist. He did get what he always wanted."

But Myers had closed off his ears, his mind and his belief systems to anything more that Fraser had to say. He spun on a sixpence, strode back towards Fraser, and leaned in, his face no more than two inches from Fraser's.

And once more Fraser felt the cold metal barrel nestling against his neck.

"You're lying. And no matter what you say - you _do_ have a reason."

Fraser gazed up at him stoically. "I have no reason."

Myers backed off just enough to be able to glance at the clock. "You have sixteen minutes left to live.

I would think that _that_ was reason enough."

_OoooO_

Ray landed with a bump at the bottom of the slope. Endorphins had pumped their way into his brain, taking way his initial fear and leaving him with a sense of almost childish excitement. A big grin that he couldn't remove had blossomed onto his face. He got to his feet and waited for Jill to complete her descent.

He turned - and discovered much to his chagrin that Jill was much closer than he had anticipated - right behind him. Unable to control herself, she caromed straight into him, knocking Ray's feet from under him and sending him back to the snowy ground from whence he came.

Laughing, Jill got to her knees, and regarded Ray's prostrate form. "Sorry! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sure, fine." Ray extended his hand towards Jill and she yanked him up off of the ground.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Kinda. Might have been more comfortable on a sled, though." Ray wiped some snow from his butt.

Jill nodded, grinned, then resumed walking. "I'll bring you back here sometime. We can do it properly."

"Oh, yeah?"

Jill looked around and gave him a withering glare. "I meant - we can sled down that hill, Ray."

"That's what I was thinking. Why - what were you thinking?"

"You're nuts, you really are."

"Yeah, well, if I dwelled on what we were doing I'd dissolve to a little puddle on the ground and all that'd be left of Ray Vecchio would be a sad little snow covered mound. You could stick a little cross in the top. And a flag. American of course."

"Naturally."

"So, um - how're we doing for time?"

"Since the snow has held off - thank the lord - we..." She checked her watch. "Are ahead of schedule." She looked at Ray with an expression of near triumph. "You know Ray, the whim of a breath of wind can send a storm miles off in another direction. And it's thanks to that that we are going to make it."

"So we slid down the hill why? To buy us more time?"

"Well, yes. And no."

Ray rolled his eyes. "What exactly do you mean by that, pray tell?"

"Well - I knew it would indeed buy us time. And..."

Ray caught on. "And you just wanted to, huh? And now my butt cheeks are two solid blocks of ice." Jill slowed her pace just enough so she could examine the evidence. "They look fine to me."

"So you can't get frostbite in your butt, then?"

"Well, yes. But the skin wasn't exposed..."

"What kind of moron would...ah, forget it. And?"

"I don't believe that it has ever been recorded in medical journals on the subject for someone's butt to fall off."

Ray mopped his brow dramatically. "Phew."

"Yeah. It'd be a tragedy. Especially in your case."

"Stop flirting with me, woman."

"I don't need to - do I?"

Ray decided not to answer. Then, for the first time since the set out, he decided to look at his own watch. "Fifteen minutes."

Jill gave him a reassuring smile. "We're nearly there, Ray."

"Do we have a plan this time?"

"Well, I guess we both go in..."

"I was thinking that I go in. You take the jeep. Go and get some kind of help."

"But...why?"

"I don't know. Just being selfish I guess." He reached out and took Jill's hand. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"But will you be alright?"

Ray nodded, but didn't make eye contact with Jill. "I'll be with Benny. We make quite a formidable team."

"_Like a wise man said, together, we make much more than the sum."_

"Something like that." Reminded of Fraser's musical interlude, he eyed Jill questioningly. "D'you know that song? I mean, from before you heard Fraser sing it?"

"Can't say as I do."

"Hmm." Ray spared another glance at his watch. Twelve minutes. And as he looked up, if he squinted, he could just make out the shape of the half built cabin in the distance. Almost unconsciously, he crossed his fingers, and, although not believing in telepathy, broadcasted a message across the chill Canadian air.

_Hang on in there, Benny._

OoooO

Both Myers and Fraser's eyes were trained on the clock as ten minutes till high noon ticked past. They had not spoken since Myers last threat.

Fraser didn't believe that this was - well - it - but it were to be, then there was one thing that he needed to know.

"Why did you take the yo-yo? When you committed the crime?"

"I wasn't _planning_ on killing Jackie. It wasn't pre-meditated."

"So why did you go there?"

"I tracked her down. Through the RCMP computer records. I...I guess I just wanted to see her."

"Did you know she had a child before you got there?"

"No."

"Then I don't understand the significance of..."

"It was Jake's. OK? I made it for him. And Jackie gave it to me, from his personal effects. After the funeral. Because she had forgiven me as well."

Things were well and truly falling into place now. "So seeing her again..."

"Just bought everything back. Then I found out about Alice...I couldn't handle it. I guess I had some kind of breakdown. It didn't sink in what I'd done until it was too late."

But I thought that I'd get away with it. There was no reason for anyone to suspect me."

"Until I came along."

"Yeah." Myers laughed, almost joyfully. "You know - you're too intuitive for your own good."

"You could have pled insanity. Diminished responsibility."

"Yeah. But it's too late now." Myers tone was one of regret. "I killed Docherty. And that _was_ pre-meditated."

"Killing me isn't going to make things any better for you. Is it?"

"No." Fraser watched as tears began to spill over and coarse down Myers' cheeks. "I don't want to kill you, Fraser. But you _know_. And so does Jill, and so does Ray. I just...I just need this to go away so I can start again."

"It's not going to go away, Bob. It will always live with you. You said so yourself." Fraser glanced up and realised quickly that Myers was no longer listening. "Bob?"

An air of urgency had taken over the proceedings. Myers took a glance out of the window, and then, his eyes shot through with panic, ran to the blanket from which he had fashioned the strips that bound Fraser. He tugged another piece free. And then he turned to Fraser and bound it firmly around his mouth, gagging him.

In the midst of his own fear, Fraser heard something from outside. It was the Jeep. Starting up. And slowly disappearing off into the distance.

It was Jill and Ray. They had made it back.

But after Myers reaction - and consequent actions...he was no longer convinced that he was to keep his promise. Although there were still five minutes to spare.

Looking around himself, Myers grabbed a leg of the chair that had met it's untimely end earlier that day. And with a warning glare at Fraser, he ducked back into a dark corner of the cabin.

And twenty seconds later, Ray's face appeared through the crack in the cabin door.

All was quiet.

He pushed the door open a little. Fraser was in plain sight of the door. Cautiously, he slipped in, every muscle tensed, his fight or flight mechanism slid firmly into fight.

"Fraser?" He whispered. "You OK?"

Fraser heard Myers crack back the safety on his pistol. The best thing he could do, he knew, was nod.

Ray, taking a risk he knew was inevitable, opened the door wide and walked into the cabin, towards his friend.

But when he looked into Fraser's eyes, he didn't see relief.

He saw a warning.

But it was too little, too late.

The wooden chair leg smashed down onto Ray's neck. Blacking out almost immediately, he slid to the floor.

OoooO

Myers - for whatever reason, had ducked back outside again. Fraser felt Ray stirring from where he was similarly tied to a chair right behind him.

Finally feeling it was time to break free from his bonds, he strained his arms and found the strip holding his right wrist tore easily. With his now free hand, he pulled his gag free, while still straining at his remaining bond.

The deadline - what a chill that word now placed in Fraser's heart - had passed. By a little over five minutes.

By all accounts, Myers must now have something else planned.

"Ray..."

Ray ungagged, lifted his aching head from his chest. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Just fine, Benny. And you? No, don't tell me, you're fine, right?" Ray tried to turn his head a little, but his neck complained loudly. "Ouch."

"Things are looking a little brighter."

"Yeah, guess you could say that." His senses slowly returning, a realisation came to Ray. "How'd you get your gag off?"

"I've got one hand free. Dief chewed through my bonds."

"That's an advantage, I guess. Look, Benny - if we get through this, will you please, please promise me something?"

"That would rather depend on what it was."

"Can you please promise me that we will never go on vacation together again? You know, lets make it you go your way, and I'll go mine."

After mulling this over for a second, Fraser nodded. "I think that's probably a good...what's that, Ray?"

"What's _what_, Benny?" Ray regretted, but could do nothing about, the annoyed tone that had crept into his speech. It was his usual reaction to life's little unpleasant hiccups - like the threat of death for example.

"That smell."

"So you've got your...oh, jeez..." Ray could smell it now. "What do you think it is?"

"I have a good idea. Though I'd like you to confirm it." Fraser's words per minute speed had upped. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, it usually meant that - horror of horrors - he was panicking.

"I think it's gasoline, Fraser."

"Well, that's good."

"No, it is _not_ good!" Ray snapped. "It's not good at all! He's going to burn this place down around us! How on earth can that possibly be good!"

"Ray!" Fraser hissed. "I have a plan. We just have to hope he comes back in."

"Would you like to fill me in?"

"You see that kerosene lamp in front of you?"

"Yeah..."

"I want you to knock it over."

"And how do you suggest I do that, Fraser?"

"I didn't mean now! When I say." Fraser fell into silence then, and slid the gag back over his lips, and his hand back behind the chair. Myers kept one eye on them, and one eye on his task as he continued spilling gasoline around the interior of the cabin.

Fraser finally felt some give, and then a definite slackening in the bond around his left wrist.

It was literally now or never.

It was time to do something that in no ordinary circumstances he would ever do. But he had Ray to thank for it. For reminding him of something that would otherwise have slipped his mind.

In a brief moment while Myers had his back turned away from them, Fraser slipped a hand up surreptitiously and once again loosened his gag, letting it slip down to around his neck. Quickly replacing the hand, he called out.

"Myers..."

Myers whipped around. "How'd you get the gag off?" He placed the can of gasoline on the table, pulled his pistol from his holster and strode over to Fraser.

Bending down in front of him, he made to remove the gag so that he could retie it - the knot, he assumed having come loose.

Fraser breathed in through his nose, and held it.

Myers took it as a sign of fear.

But he was wrong.

As Myers struggled with the over tight knot on the gag, Fraser's eyes fell closed. And then, it happened.

He sneezed in Myers face.

And it was not an insubstantial sneeze. It was, if looked back on while trawling through the annals of sneezing - a beauty.

Myers face creased with disgust and he backed off, wiping his face with the hand holding the gun. And then Fraser leapt from his chair, grabbing his wrist.

With strength borne of anger, pent up fear, self preservation and the need to protect his friend, he pushed Myers back. They crashed into the table, knocking the gasoline can to the floor, spilling the rest of the contents into a large puddle which began to seep into the floorboards.

Myers, after recovering from the shock, placed a knee in Fraser's rib cage and shoved him roughly backwards. Fraser's foot slipped on the gasoline beneath his feet and he crashed ungainly to the floor.

Ray, still firmly tied, looked on. He could do nothing. Except follow through on Fraser's plan.

But now, as Fraser always said, wasn't the time.

Myers watched as Fraser struggled to his feet, then he swung back his fist and landed a perfect right hook on Fraser's jaw. His footing already precarious, he toppled right back down, his head hitting the ground with an audible thump.

And Fraser just lay there. Ray looked on, begging Fraser to get back up, to knock this guy out. He had no doubt that he could.

But slowly it became clear. This was all part of Fraser's plan. He just wished, that for once, Fraser had filled him in on all the intricacies and details beforehand. Just - this _once_.

Myers looked down at Fraser and smiled. He levelled the pistol at Fraser's chest.

And then Fraser put plan B into action.

"You're not going to shoot me, Myers."

Myers said nothing, but the pistol answered on his behalf with a crack of the safety.

"This building is full of gasoline. You undoubtedly have some on your clothes. I'm sure that I don't have explain what a spark from your weapon could do."

Myers looked down at his gun. He stepped back, though just a little. His booted foot was at the edge of the puddle of gasoline. Fraser took the opportunity to get to his knees. His left hand snaked out. His right made a sweeping gesture to the rest of the cabin. "This cabin could explode. It would take all three of us with it. Think about it, Bob. Do you really want more people to die?

Do _you_ want to die?"

Myers looked to where Fraser was gesturing. Then he looked to Ray.

Fraser knew that the distraction had been enough. In less than a second, he leaned over, grabbed the chair leg that had been used on Ray, and smashed it into Myers knees. One foot slipped back into the puddle of gasoline, and then Fraser leapt to his feet, taking advantage of Myers shock and loss of balance, and pushing him hard back into the table.

Myers fell to the floor - not knocked out, but definitely groggy. Fraser didn't know how much time they would have before Myers resumed his attack, but he couldn't risk procrastinating. He ran back to Ray, bent and undid his bonds.

Ray stood and rubbed his chaffed wrists gratefully. But as Ray and Fraser turned to face Myers, they saw that he was already on his feet, and advancing.

Ray looked at Fraser.

"Now?"

Fraser nodded. "I'd say this was as good a time as any."

Ray didn't stop to think. He reached out and pushed the kerosene lamp to the floor, where the glass shattered.

The gasoline caught light almost immediately. Fraser pushed Ray square in the back and towards the door. "Now! NOW!"

And together they ran for the door.

Myers, his reactions slowed, wasn't able to stop them.

He could only look on as Fraser and Ray escaped into the night - and slammed the door behind them.

OoooO

"Guess it's good job we didn't get that much done on the place."

Ray shaded his face with his hand as he backed away from the rapidly expanding fire. There was no sign of Myers - Ray hadn't cared to look back and assumed that he must have been overcome by the choking black smoke.

Fraser, who was wiping his eyes and coughing, looked back up at the flames. Once more, his childhood home was being gutted. But this time it was different - there was someone in there. Someone who was going to die very soon or who was already dead.

Even after all that Myers had put Ray and himself through, he couldn't just stand back knowing that he was to die the most unimaginable death. And so, without so much as a glance at Ray, he ran back into the flames.

"BENNY!" Ray yelled. He wasn't entirely surprised but, still... "You can't go back in there! You'll never get him out on your own!" As soon as he had uttered the words _on your own_, he knew just what he had talked himself into. He had to help Fraser, he had no choice. While he didn't care much for Myers' welfare, he couldn't stand back and watch his best friend die. He pulled a mucky handkerchief from his pocket, tied it around his mouth, and followed Fraser into the flames.

Half of the cabin was alight, the other half nearly so. The smoke was dense, so much so that Ray could hardly see his hand in front of his face, let alone his friend. "Fraser!" he called, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. He pulled it down and inhaled a lungful of smoke. "Fraser!"

"Ray!" A voice came out of the billowing clouds. "Get out of here!"

Ray's eyes flitted back to the door. "No! Not without you! Leave him, Benny! He's not worth it!"

A silence. "Benny? BENNY...?" A couple of agonising seconds later, there was a reply. "I've found him. Help me drag him out."

"I would if I could find you!"

"Just follow my voice! I'm over here - to your left." As Ray moved to the left, he could just make out the distinctive silhouette of his friend. "Grab one of his arms..."

Ray did as bid. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"You know you're certifiably insane, don't you?"

"I'm beginning to regard that a possibility. But currently I don't have the time to contemplate it." Together, they began pulling the hulking man towards the door.

Suddenly, without warning, there was an ominous woomph noise, and as Fraser looked up, he saw the ceiling catch fire.

And then there was an even more ominous creak - right above Ray's head. Ray noticed it too, and looked up.

And then decided that he was too frightened to move.

"Ray! Ray! Get out! Now!"

"I..."

"Get out!"

"I can't move!"

"You can't just stand there...Ray...I...I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Ray's attention moved from the flaming ceiling to Fraser's increasingly red and black face.

"This."

And with that, he swung his fist round in a left hook that landed on Ray's chin.

The orange of the flames turned to red, then black, and he slid to the floor for the second time in just thirty minutes.

OoooO

When he felt his head being cradled in a woman's arms, he knew that it had all been a terrible nightmare. He, like the (imaginary?) Docherty had gotten lucky, and after...well, after...he had fallen into a fevered sleep which had seemed like it had lasted just over a week, but probably only in fact had lasted less than an hour. He was definite.

It wasn't until he smelt the burning - burning wood, burning material - even burning hair...that he knew that that enticing explanation wasn't true. Still, as he cracked his eyes open, he saw that he was indeed being cradled in the arms of a beautiful woman.

"Hi, Ray."

"Hey."

"Are you OK?"

"He hit me."

"Myers?"

"No...Benny." As the fog began to clear he shoofted himself up a little. The cabin was still burning. There was no way to put it out, they would just have to wait until the flames had nothing left to burn. "Benny hit me..." He wiped a black layer of soot from his eyes. "Is he OK?"

"Ray..."

"_Is he OK?_"

"There's no sign of him, Ray. We can't get near the cabin. He's either just outside...or still inside. Either way, he's..." She looked up, the flames reflecting in the tears building up in her eyes. "...he's more than likely dead."

"No. He'll be OK...he always pulls through, right?"

"Ray - he's not Superman."

Ray looked at Jill. "Then maybe _you_ don't know him quite as well as you think, Jill."

Jill nodded, and took Ray's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "I hope you're right."

OoooO

_Well_, thought Fraser, _I've had bad days, and I've had worse days. But this has to rank as the worst. Ever. Well, maybe after that incident at the train station..._

He'd caught Ray before he hit the floor, and dragged him outside. Realising it was a lost cause trying to go back in to save Myers, he remained outside...until he heard Dief. He was howling and whimpering - obviously scared.

What he was doing back here, he didn't know. He had neglected to ask Ray whether or not Dief had caught up to them, whether he had come back with them.

But that _had_ to be true.

The other possible explanation was almost impossible to even contemplate.

Laying Ray gently down a good distance from the flames, he sprinted round to the rear of the cabin. And sure enough, there was Dief, cowered beside the tree trunk. During his approach, concerned for his pet, he didn't notice the Frisbee laying on the snow.

The Frisbee that he put his booted foot right on, which slid, happily across the ice. His right leg had flown up from under him, causing him to tip right over his centre of balance and crash down onto the ground, giving his head another whack in the process.

_Well_, he thought, _this is entirely typical_. _I've made it through a fight, a fire, running back into said fire and almost having the roof collapse on me, not to mention a bad cold and the after affect of a dose of antibiotics - and now I've managed to almost knock myself unconscious - and hurt my ankle_, he realised - _by slipping on a Frisbee in the snow._

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he felt stupid, and by the pitying look on Diefenbaker's face, that feeling was being reciprocated. His fear seemingly forgotten in his attempt to humiliate his master, he picked himself up and trotted off into the trees.

"Dief...come back...Dief!" Scrambling back up from his prone position, and with an admixture of hobbling, hopping and limping, he followed in his wolf's wake. He'd made it no more than a hundred yards into the dense cover of trees when his ankle gave up the ghost and decided it needed a rest. It promptly lay down, and took Fraser with it.

Sitting upright, he called out once more. "Diefenbaker!" That animal was truly getting more infuriating by the day. Deciding to leave Dief to his own devices, he turned his head back to regard the flames and contemplate some things that he had learnt from this vacation.

First off - it definitely seemed as if his father's cabin wasn't meant to be rebuilt. And he was quite happy to go along with fate on that one.

Second - he really should steer clear of medicines - prescription or otherwise.

Third - not all cases are as clear cut as you think they're going to be. The solution had been almost literally staring them in the face, yet they'd never seen it.

And fourth...Ray was right. They should _never_ go on vacation together again.

He was interrupted from his reverie by a presence, then a voice.

"So it's happened again."

"I'm sorry, Dad." Fraser wiped a hand across his face, smearing it with a line of soot.

"It's not your fault, son. You didn't set either fire. Now, if you'd taken a match to your mothers curtains, _then_ it would have been your fault. I'm...um...I'm just glad you're alright."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Although it was touch and go there for a moment, eh son?"

"There was very little I could do with my hands tied behind my back."

"I guess even you have your limits."

"Yes, I suppose I do." His eyes drifted back to the flames. "It's all gone. Everything that survived the first fire. The pictures, the things you left behind. Ray's possessions, my possessions...it's all gone."

"That's as may be, son."

Fraser looked up at his father. "What do you mean? Don't you care? I mean, I know you're dead, but..."

"You know, son, there is one thing that no company will insure."

"A house built on landfill?"

"Alright, there's two things that no company will insure. You can't take out a policy on your memories. Because they can never be lost, they can never be stolen...they can never burn down. As long as they're with you, you haven't lost a thing. And you're still here. And your friend. You should set about counting your blessings, son. Because you have what I would like more than anything. Life. Youth - well, relatively...a good job, people who care for you. What more could you want?"

It was a quandary which Fraser mulled over in silence for a couple of moments.

"The only other thing I want - is that picture of mum."

"Then you're a lucky man."

That was Robert's parting shot, he had vanished by the time Fraser had time to turn, and open his mouth to ask him what he meant. He closed his mouth again, and then, squinting through the darkness, he could just make out Diefenbaker's form heading back in his direction.

He waited for his boon companion to reach him, then realised he was carrying something between his lupine jaws. Dief simply opened his mouth slightly, and let his prize flutter onto Fraser's lap.

And then he knew what his father meant. How? He didn't know. Why? An equal conundrum. It didn't matter. Now - now he had _everything_ he wanted.

OoooO

The rest had seemingly done his ankle good, as it hurt considerably less when he tested his weight on it. He pulled a branch from a nearby tree, and, using it as a crutch, hobbled back towards the cabin. The fire was now dying down, robbed of its fuel. Things were now eerily calm.

As he rounded the cabin, he saw Jill's Jeep parked up a couple of hundred metres away. The tail lights of another vehicle were disappearing over the brow of the hill. And then, as he entered the illumination of the flames, two figures got out of the Jeep, and ran towards him at a pace.

Jill made it first, enveloping him in a hug. "Ben...thank God. Thank God." She pulled back and examined him at arms length. "What happened to your foot?"

"I, um...well...I...nothing. Nothing." He turned his attention to his partner, who was trying to perfect looking relieved yet annoyed simultaneously. "I'm sorry I hit you, Ray."

"Yeah. Whatever. Where the hell were you?"

"I was, um...Dief ran off. He was scared, and I followed him, to make sure he was alright. Didn't I, Diefenbaker?" He looked down, and to the right. "Dief?"

A moment later the errant wolf again reappeared, this time with his Frisbee between his teeth. He dropped it at his master's feet.

"Oh, all right. You've shamed me into it." Looking up again at Jill and Ray, he proffered an explanation. "I slipped. On the Frisbee. And twisted my ankle."

Ray responded with an almost trademark: "Ah."

The trio stood together, listening to the crackle of the flames. Then Jill spoke up. "Come on boys. You can stay at my place tonight. Then we'll see about getting you home."

Ray snorted as they began their return to the jeep. "Stay at your place, eh?"

"Yes, Ray. At my place."

Fraser decided to break the moment with an ill-timed quip. "Don't mind me, I'm just the cobbler."

"Huh?"

"Cobbler. Gooseberry cobbler. My grandmother used to make it. And she also used to say it when I brought...people...back here."

Jill's face lit up. "Yeah - I remember. Didn't understand it at the time, though. Certainly didn't find it funny. And I guess some things _don't_ change." She hopped up into the jeep. Ray bundled himself in next to her.

"Jill..."

"Yes, Ray?"

"Does he really tie his wallet to his underwear?"

Turning the keys in the ignition, Jill let loose a world class smirk. "I honestly wouldn't know. Why - do you?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Ray grinned, then yawned.

Jill hiked her eyebrows. "Promises, promises." There was a moments silence, and then she heard both Dief and Fraser snoring softly in the back of the Jeep. She turned back to Ray.

"I'm so sorry things turned out this way, Ray. I should never have gotten you two involved in the case."

"Even after everything..." Ray said, almost contemplatively, "I wouldn't have changed a single moment."

"No. Neither would I. So...are you really going to let me find out where you keep your wallet? Ray?"

"Ray?"

Jill once again glanced at Ray. He too, was now fast asleep, exhausted and overwhelmed by the days events.

"Well - maybe next time, huh?" She flicked the headlights on full beam, and headed for home.

_**OoooO**_

Fraser was relieved to discover, the next day, that Dief had in fact caught up with Jill and Ray, and had come back with them. He hadn't wanted to believe the alternative - but, despite what he had told Alice - Dief wasn't always to be trusted.

After they had breakfasted, Jill had filled them in on the gaps in their knowledge of the previous nights events. She had taken the Jeep while Ray had gone into the cabin alone. After driving no more than three miles, she had encountered Jackson and Lucas, coming in the other direction.

They had had no contact with Jill since she had let it be known she was at Fraser's cabin. The radio in the jeep had been tampered with - it was useless. They had had no way to contact her, or she them.

Jackson had related to her how there had been a call from Elaine Besbriss in Chicago. She'd told them that Docherty's alibi had been confirmed. They'd needed to tell Jill urgently.

So they'd had to come out to see her.

She had related the full story of Myers confession, of him taking Fraser hostage, of the challenge they had been set. They'd followed Jill to Fraser's cabin - and had been horrified to see it engulfed in flames.

After assessing the situation, and caring for Ray who had been lying unconscious outside, Jill dispatched Lucas and Jackson to go to the site of Docherty's murder, and arrange to have the body picked up.

And it had been around then that Fraser had reappeared from behind the cabin.

Bob Myers - well - he'd remained in the cabin while Fraser had taken the decision to save the life of his friend.

But that, said Jill, was yesterday. Today - as much as she regretted the fact, Ray and Fraser were to return to Chicago. Their flight was no more than two hours away. It had been paid for by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police - as a gesture of thanks.

Another gesture of thanks had been phoned through from Peter Owen. Alice was out of protective custody - and now, he prayed, she could get on with her life.

He also admitted that Jake Hawkins _had_ been Alice's biological father.

Ray, trying to look on a bright side he wasn't convinced was there, made flippant remarks about how he would be packing, but he had nothing to pack.

Though Jill laughed, she knew exactly how he was feeling.

Because she was feeling it too.

It had been almost impossible for the two of them to look each other in the eye since the moment they had woken up.

They'd known each other just four days.

Some people might have thought that that would make it easier for them to part.

That may well be true.

Though they didn't believe it right now.

A ninety minute drive to the airport lay ahead. Ray donned his jacket, and Jill called out for Fraser, who appeared through a doorway, similarly unburdened by luggage. He was bruised, and he was tired, but there was one thing he had to be pleased about.

His cold was almost gone. The delicious fragrances of bacon and coffee that morning had first alerted him to that fact. And it had been then confirmed by the fact that he had also been able to _taste_ them.

"It's time to go."

Fraser nodded. "I've got everything." He shrugged. The photograph of his mother was nestled in his jeans pocket.

"Good." Jill donned her coat, and fished out her keys. "Lets get you guys home."

OoooO

Fraser settled himself in a familiar orange plastic chair while Jill signed papers confirming their bookings. Ray pondered the view from the window. Dief was nestled once more at Fraser's feet. He wasn't sure what was happening - although he could hazard a guess. They must be heading back to Chicago.

Chicago. With all the donuts, and burgers, and fries that he could ever dream of. As far as he was concerned, you could keep snow, log cabins, pine trees. And as for hunting for his own food - well, that was way too much like hard work.

If he could have told Fraser to wake him up when the plane was ready, he would have. But he just settled his head down onto his front paws and once more fell asleep.

He'd had a _tough_ couple of days.

OoooO

Ray opened the glass door and stepped outside. Jill caught his movement, and after finishing up, followed him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So, back home, huh? Back to the job, back to your family, back to the Riv."

"Back to reality."

"Wasn't yesterday real enough for you?"

Ray smiled wryly. "Well - actually being a cop in Chicago is a doddle - compared to going on vacation with Fraser. It's just, y'know, the hum-drum daily existence. Nothing really changes. Y'know, you may not believe it but I'm kind of a lonely guy."

"Even with all your family - your friends? Your colleagues."

Ray swivelled round to face her, making her look up at him by will alone. "I think you know what I mean by lonely."

"You mean having someone..."

"Someone special." He reached up, touched her face tenderly. "Do you know how special you are?"

"How can I answer that without embarrassing myself?"

Ray laughed. "God, I'm going to miss you." He leant forward and they kissed, then embraced. "I'll come back, OK? I promise."

"You'd better." Jill's chin began trembling uncontrollably, and she buried her head in Ray's chest. He hugged her tightly.

Then he heard a noise to his rear. A cough.

"Hey, Benny." Ray didn't look to Fraser a lot more cheery than Jill.

"Ray, I've um..." Fraser hand slid up almost unconsciously, and he began tugging at his left earlobe.

"Let me guess - you have a plan?"

Realising what he was doing, Fraser pulled his hand away.

"You could say that." He reached into his pocket and drew out a handful of paper notes. He held them out to Ray. "$300. Canadian."

Ray looked the picture of confusion, as did Jill, who was wiping at her tears. "What's this for?"

"I guess I'm paying you back. For everything. And for all the money you've leant me over the years."

"Yeah, well $300 doesn't begin to touch it. And - it's Canadian."

"Yes, Ray." Fraser looked down the runway to where the plane was taxiing into view. "It's legal tender here." He refused to elaborate, hoping that Ray would catch on. He whistled to Dief who padded outside to join him. Then:

"Stay, Ray. Stay here with Jill. Enjoy the rest of your vacation."

"You're...you...you mean it?" Ray looked to Jill, to ask if it would be alright, and she was smiling through her tears.

"Will you be alright in Chicago on your own?"

Fraser put on his best withering look - which wasn't entirely convincing. "I think I can manage."

"But where'd you get the money?"

"Let's just say my wallet survived the fire."

The meaning behind Fraser's statement hit Ray and Jill simultaneously, and they started laughing. "You're kidding."

"No, Ray." The plane was now in sight, the assistant in the terminal calling out - _sans_ tannoy - for all passengers for the flight - now only Fraser and Dief - to board the plane for immediate take off. "I have to go. I'll see you back in Chicago."

Ray grabbed his arm as he began to move. "Just two things, Fraser. Who wrote that song you sang to Alice? Was it your dad?"

"Uh, no." Fraser pulled away from Ray's grasp and walked towards the plane. When he was about three metres away, he said "I did. About twelve months ago."

"Really? Wow..." Ray shook his head in near disbelief. Fraser was still backing towards the plane. "And what about the mooses?"

"What about them, Ray?"

"You know."

"Ah, so you remember now?" Fraser was no more than two metres from the plane.

"Yeah. So what is it?"

Fraser had his left foot on the step. "I'll tell you when you get back to Chicago."

"Why? Fraser?" Fraser looked back as he was about to duck into the plane.

"Because I need to find a dictionary first."

Fraser pulled the plane door shut, waving just before he disappeared from sight. With a whirr of the engine, the plane moved off down the runway, and took off, heading for the clouds.

Jill and Ray watched it go, until it disappeared from view. Then Ray turned to Jill. "He doesn't know! Can you believe that?"

"Nope." It was Jill's turn to stroke Ray's face tenderly. "Happy?"

"More than you could possibly imagine." He pulled away from her, took her hand, and led her back into the terminal. "So...who's for a game of "Find the Wallet"?"

"Ray..." Jill said decisively after a moments thought. "I think you may just have talked me into it."

_**the**_** END**


End file.
